Opaline
by Lady Devonna
Summary: Following "My White Tiger" a few years down the road, Lady Celi has become the Maou and Gwendal must shoulder responsibility for his family and country and still find time to cope with his devoted and slightly more grown-up love for Lord Gunter Von Christ
1. The Game of Thrones

"You're wearing a hole in the rug, Gwendal…"

I could only grunt. I knew I was far gone when Anissina couldn't even rattle me. Well, without effort. I had yet to descend into a state of flustered depression so deep she couldn't deepen it. Still, this was closer than most. Mother had been chosen as Maou? My Mother? I loved her dearly, of course, and she was perfectly competent when she chose to bother, but I was also fond of Shin Makoku!

Anissina poked me in the spine with a knitting needle as I passed. "Shouldn't you be packing? You're leaving tomorrow, and you probably want some sleep first."

"Maybe." Interesting prospect, that… I was used to moving between this house and the one I still thought of as Father's, for all he'd been dead over twenty years. Then, though, I just maintained enough in both locations to get by. I only needed to carry a few changes of clothes for the trip and enough yarn to keep occupied.

"I'm packed already. Mr. Efficiency made it very easy. You can borrow him if you like!"

"I don't want my clothes imploding thanks. …What?" Why was Anissina packing? I felt my jaw drop. I didn't like this development at all…

"I'm one of the Ten Aristocrats, dummy. I have to be there for the coronation as much as you do! Besides, Lady Celi's kindly asked if I'd like a place as her advisor. Arnolf will do just fine governing things back here. I've taught him well." She'd taught him to cower. I felt sorry for her poor brother, but at least he'd be seeing the end of her for a while. We should all be so lucky.

"What do we have to do at the ceremony?" I hated things like that. And it'd be the first time I'd really have to show up for something like that. I might have the title, but the previous Maou had pretty much ignored me. He and Father had been pretty icy toward each other. I considered it a blessing. What would I do with political power anyway? I had plenty to do evading the lunatic Lady Von Karbelnikoff, looking to the governance of Voltaire lands, and making sure my brothers were looked after. 

"Not much. You'd know if you ever came out of your box." Anissina had been in and out of the capitol five times, and she'd only taken over the family title a year and a half ago. I detested that woman sometimes. "I'm going home to make sure everything's ready."

"Good. Go away." I usually tried to be a little more diplomatic, but I needed someone to be angry at, and Anissina was the only one I felt no remorse about. 

Because she had no emotions, only evil. She smiled and walked to the door, pausing as she stepped into the hall. "Hmm, you know who else will be there?" I didn't deign to answer, staring at my wardrobe and wondering how much I should take. "…Gunter."

I heard her laugh long after the door was closed. I'm not sure how long. There was definitely a stretch of time that lasted approximately an eon during which I was frozen with my hand on the wardrobe's latch, and that insidious giggle worked its way through all of it. 

Gunter. My Gunter. No, I shouldn't even dare to think that. I hadn't seen him decades. Only once besides our first meeting, actually. He'd been hurt in a battle and ours was the nearest house where he had friends. Before then I'd hoped that what I felt was a childish crush, just a fleeting little fancy I'd built into an ideal no real person could reach.

No such luck. He was still everything I dreamed of. I'd adored him just as much then, hovering near his room, allowing Anissina to use me as a battery for one of her few functional inventions, Mr. Amplification of Healing Energies. He was beautiful and gentle and brave and sweet. He was as silly as I was serious, able to look at things lightheartedly that no one else could, but intense and sober when need be. He cooked better than our entire kitchen staff and was one of the best swordsmen in the nation. There was no other smile that cute. Flawless amethyst. Rosy dawn. White tiger. I wanted him with everything I had. 

I pulled a handkerchief from my breast pocket. Over the past twenty years it had gotten rather threadbare and a little gray, but it was still my memento of my love. I pressed it to my cheek and closed my eyes a moment. Was it too much to hope, this time? I'd finally hit my growth spurt the last few years. I was taller than mother now, and more used to it, not so prone to tripping over my own feet. My voice never squeaked. I'd had my own command, albeit briefly. I'd gotten the position toward the end of the war. But I'd won all three of my battles. I had a medal that I had to resist the urge to wear everywhere.

Hah. So I was slightly less pathetic? Excellent. I opened the door and started packing.

It turned out to take most of the night. I got only a few hours of sleep before Wolfram was sitting on my chest and poking me. "It's time to go, Gwendal! Come on! We're going to the castle!" This seemed to strike him poetically, and he promptly jumped off me to run around the floor singing "Going to the castle! Going to the castle!"

Ah. Someone had given him sugar, had they? "Why don't you go play with…someone while I get dressed?"

"You _are_ dressed. Did you go to sleep in your clothes?"

Oops. "Must have. What'd you have for breakfast?"

"Waffles. Raven let me put syrup _and_ powdered sugar on them and eat in the kitchen because everyone was so busy. They were blueberry waffles!"

"As I suspected." I finally gave up and rolled out of bed. "When are we leaving?"

"In soon. I asked. Conrart said to wake you up." I was glad to see Wolfram and Conrart were getting along. Wolf had been acting rather unpleasantly toward our brother the last few months, since he'd been told Conrart was half human. I blamed his father. Mother's husband was a revolting man. With luck this goodwill would last. I could tell Conrart stung from Wolfram's comments and coldness, childish and ignorant as they were.

As my clothes were already rumpled from being slept in, I didn't put any great care into folding them up for packing. I dressed simply for the trip. The roads would probably be dusty, and my good clothes should be saved for all the public appearances the Maou's oldest son would undoubtedly have to make. Oh, hell. 

We had a whole cart devoted to luggage. I'd thought my three bags were fairly outrageous, but Conrart and Wolfram both had the same. Raven had one, but he was coming back to run the estate after the coronation. Stoffel was also being modest, with two. Mother filled the rest of the cart herself easily. She was looking nervous and giddy and kept hugging everyone. Anissina turned up, apparently planning to ride with us. It was going to be a long, crowded, torturous trip. 

One that I made almost entirely with Wolfram on my lap. Ultimately, though it was hot and he squirmed a lot, I didn't mind. It kept Anissina away.

I arrived in the great, shining capital city dusty, sweaty, irritated, and not in the mood for celebrations. It was the end of a hot, dry summer and the whole world felt pretty revolting as I stumbled out of the carriage, not even noting the graceful columns or lovely gardens surrounding us. They'd still be there when I wasn't miserable and disgusting. Ugh, even my hair seemed to be sweating. It had come untied and I didn't have the energy to do anything about it.

I walked around automatically to help unload the luggage, but there were already six servants doing it. Six! I'd always thought Mother's house the lap of luxury, sumptuous and rich as it was, surrounded by verdant fields. This place, though… I wasn't sure I approved.

Conrart had already found a guard captain to stare at. Wolfram was clinging to what he'd declared to be a beautiful ermine. It was one of several dozen attempts I'd made at making a white tiger. I'd given it to him after one of his half brothers on the Bielefeld side had set fire to his favorite toy fox. He looked a little lost, so I walked over to pick him up. He was a tiny kid, much smaller than Conrart had been at that age. He didn't weigh a thing. I sat him up on my shoulders. "Like it so far?" I tried to sound enthusiastic.

"It's really big and busy. Where do all these people come from?" Wolfram was a country boy. He kicked his feet idly. Enough to hurt a bit as his heels buried themselves in my abdomen, but I could deal with that. "Where do you think we're going to get to live?"

"They probably have rooms ready for us." I should hope so, anyway. I looked around. It must have been the coronation, but there were more people in this courtyard than I'd seen in one place outside the war. More than even the most ostentatious of Mother's parties. I'd been here before, but never for something so huge. It was alarming. I wondered if it might be permissible for the maou's firstborn to retreat to a room and stay there.

We were given a wide berth, though. People were probably still reeling from the shock of who was to rule the nation, and the retinue we made up was mostly unacquainted with any courtiers, some country nobles, a couple of kids, one of whom was half human, our silent retainer…

So I was surprised when something fast and colorful ran past me about waist height. I looked down to see a cute little girl in a white dress with lovely, green hair speed past me, encounter a crack in the ground, and fall to skin her knee.

She reminded me of someone. Maybe I knew her family. She looked a bit older than Wolfram. I set my brother down for a moment (he whined) and bent double, holding out a hand. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay." She got up and defiantly shook out her curls. "It was only a little fall. And I can fix it. See?" She put her hand over the scrape. It glowed a comfortable, homey green and there was barely a scab to suggest the injury a moment later.

I was impressed. The only other kid that age with such control over their maryoku I knew was Wolfram, and all he could do was set fire to things that annoyed him. This was far more practical. "That's very good."

"Papa says I'm a rare talent." She giggled. "Who are you?"

I considered. I'd never had to actually introduce myself. Mother or a superior officer or even Stoffel would do it for me. "Gwendal Von Voltaire." There. The title was there, but if she didn't care she didn't have to. Children that age didn't.

"And _I'm_ Wolfram Von Bielefeld." Wolfram liked being on display. I generally left it to him. "Who're you?"

She curtsied prettily. "I'm Giesela Von Christ!"

…No. No! He had a daughter. A daughter older than my brother! There was someone else. In the years since—no, for all I knew he'd been married when I first met him. He'd been old enough. No one had said otherwise. He had a wife. Or a husband. A husband would be worse. I couldn't stand it if he had a husband. No wonder she was such a beautiful, talented child. No wonder I was drawn to her cute clumsiness. 

She was talking to Wolfram about his toy ermine. No one would notice me falling apart, then. They'd notice me abandoning two children, though. I couldn't run the way I wanted to. And where would I run? Even if I'd known my way around, this wasn't a place for comfort and cool, dark places to hide from the world. 

I almost hoped there had been someone from the first. Or at least that, when he found them, there might have been an echo of a memory of an awkward boy who'd adored the ground he walked on. My hand went for the pocket where I always kept the handkerchief. What was the use?

"Giesela! Don't you run away like that in this crowd!"

Revelations aside, that voice made me weak at the knees. In my dreams it came right before the cool lips that pressed to mine, when my arms twined around his slim body and I told him he didn't have to fight anymore, because I'd protect him, protect that beauty and innocence.

That was why they called the damn things _dreams_, of course.

He'd grown since I'd last seen him. Not taller. To my immense shock, _I_ was the taller one. But his shoulders had filled out, his face become more defined. It made him even more handsome, but his boyish looks from before had given me hope that the gulf between us wasn't too great. His admiral's uniform was gone. It had been very handsome, but the peacetime robes of a nobleman suited him better.

"Sorry, Daddy, but it's really exciting. And look, I made friends!" 

"Giesela…" He walked over and scooped her up, nodding at Wolfram. He hadn't met Wolfram. He'd been born since Gunter's last visit. 

"Gwendal! My, you're tall. I didn't recognize you!" He smiled at me. My heart had just frozen over forever, so why was it still beating so hard? "Then this is your youngest brother?"

"I'm Wolfram Von Bielefeld!" He was looking happy. Getting to introduce himself twice in about as many minutes. 

"Gunter!" Mother swooped past me. I felt and smelled a perfumed wind as she rushed by. "There you are. You've been shamefully neglectful of your friends. You had better have accepted my invitation."

"It's a great honor, Your Majesty," he said with a bow. "Why you'd want a southern lordling with no real governing experience as an advisor I don't see, but I live to serve."

"That's the funny thing about you, Gungun. You really do!" She giggled and hugged him. 

Oh, no, he'd be at the castle all the time. Before little Miss Giesela had entered the scene I'd have thought I'd stumbled into some excellent karma, but now it seemed more that I was being punished for my presumptions on an angel. I hoped whoever had him was good enough. I hated them with every fiber of my being that wasn't occupied with desperate love, but I hoped he was happy.

"This is your little one, then?" Mother grinned and bent down to shake Giesela's hand. "How'd you come by her again?"

"Her mother was a cousin of mine. She died in childbirth. Her father tried, but he's not a nurturing man, and finally asked if I knew any proper foster family for her. I fell in love with those eyes, though." Gunter smiled the warmest I'd ever seen from him. It was beautiful. I was tempted to swoon. 

"You've got no help bringing her up, though. Isn't it hard on you?"

"We get along very well. I think Giesela looks after me as much as I do her." She nodded happily.

"If I don't make him eat breakfast he forgets all the time, and I make it better when he falls down stairs."

That had taken a moment to penetrate. I was still reeling a bit from the first blow. This was a blow from the opposite direction, but righting myself didn't quite seem in my grasp. Wolfram, fortunately, was there to fill in for me. I relied entirely too much on my little brothers in some circumstances.

"So do you not have a Mother?" He tilted his head charmingly toward Giesela.

"Not anymore. But Daddy takes good care of me."

"My brothers don't have fathers anymore, and they don't want to borrow mine. And Conrart isn't allowed to." He debated for a moment, looking very solemn. "Maybe you can borrow mine and they can share with you?"

Gunter laughed, glancing at me. A glance I drowned in a little. "Conrart, perhaps, but I think Gwendal's a little old to be my son." 

Yes. Yes I was. He wasn't married! My beautiful, wonderful Gunter was still available. …Though I reminded myself harshly I didn't know that. He might have a fiancée or a mistress. And with a castle full of courtiers to pick from, why would he so much as look at me? Especially with a child to look after. He'd certainly want someone who could help him with Giesela's education and upbringing if he were to invest himself in a romance. He was too responsible and kind to do otherwise.

"Gwen, come along. We're going up to our rooms now." Mother patted my shoulder. "Gunter, come with us. We've got so much catching up to do." 

We followed a maid up the stairs. It was much less crowded inside, and cooler. I felt much better, though with the burden of excessive heat lifted, I realized how dreadful I must look, travel-stained and rumpled. And of course Gunter didn't have a hair out of place. Lucky southerner, inured to this ghastly weather.

As soon as we were clear of the milling, busy courtiers, Gunter looked grave. "I'm glad I caught you, Celi. I'm sure you realize the atmosphere's a little bit grim around here."

"Hmm?" You couldn't tell without knowing her if she realized or not. Sometimes with knowing her. I didn't have so much as a guess.

"Even though there's technically no succession, only Shinou's will, the last few Maous have all come from the same family." Well, everyone knew that, but Gunter must have read mother as more clueless than usual. "This was totally unexpected, and while no one will contest the will of Shinou openly, well, there's discontent."

"Not unanticipated," Stoffel said. "We have half the great aristocrats on our side. Bielefeld, Karbelnikoff, Spitzberg, of course, Voltaire, and Christ. Minor nobility should fall about the same. Evenly matched and with Shinou backing us, it's not worth worrying about."

"As you say. Still, support from those who contest Lady Celi's right to the throne will be hard to earn." Gunter didn't seem to like my uncle. To be fair, I didn't like him so much myself, lately. He had a slight tendency to try and do my job for me. I'd ask his advice if I needed it, of course, but I really didn't, and I'd have preferred to be left to the governing of my province alone. 

"We don't need to earn what's ours by right."

"In theory that's correct, Lord Spitzberg, but…" He sighed. "The rooms are lovely in this part of the castle." The maid timidly pointed out which of us slept where. Wolfram had his own room. I anticipated finding him in my bed several times a week. He was prone to nightmares and didn't like being lonely. Had I been consulted, I'd have suggested he share with Conrart or me or even the despicable twins from the start. But why would anyone consult me?

I ducked into my room gratefully, wanting a little time to myself. The crowd, the attention, the pressure… I was good at decisions and leading. I knew that. But no one would tell me what I needed to know. No one would let me have the power I'd need to be effective. None of us knew what we were getting into. Stoffel was after power and too meglomaniacal to know how to get it. Mother's despicable husband would want power as well, and preferably access to the treasury. As for Mother, I'd rather not think about it. Anissina discounted politics as an unfortunate consequence of male greed and foolishness devoutly to be ignored. 

We were all doomed. I slammed the door behind me, but instead of a satisfying crash there was a dull thud. I spun around and realized I'd just managed to smash Gunter in the nose. "I'm sorry." Oh, hell… 

"Daddy, you should have told him you were coming in. Silly."

"Mmph. Right." He already had a handkerchief out. I hoped, for a brief moment, an idiotic moment, to see a battered, grayed mass of multicolored yarn, but he instead pulled out a piece of dark red linen. Wouldn't stain. Clever. "It's fine. You know it does this all the time." He looked up and smiled, apparently as unperturbed as he claimed. I hoped so. "Your Uncle's… an implacable man."

"I've noticed. There's some real danger, isn't there?"

"More than some. May we sit down?"

"Of course!" I went to pull out chairs, but as this was the first time I'd set foot in this room, it took me more than a moment to find them and I tripped twice. I dissolved into hopeless clumsiness whenever he was around. And he seldom noticed. My wish was to understand it as Gunter kindly ignoring my blundering, but logic told me he didn't notice or care. 

"There's a lot of unrest." He settled gracefully into the chair I'd dragged over and Giesela climbed into his lap. They made a perfect picture. A pair of jewels, opal and emerald. "There has been for a while, between the recent wars and the last few rulers. Having that power concentrated in one family for so long led to corruption, and a lot of people wanted to see them out. A lot of the same people are upset because your mother was chosen. They wanted a change, but not that one."

I was learning more about the real politics of the nation than I ever would have traveling between my mother's and my own country seat, and it was deadly serious. I still felt light and giddy. Gunter was talking to me as an adult, trusting me, choosing me. Bliss. I made myself stay serious. "So the question is will they be uncooperative or actually violent?"

"I doubt that." He looked disturbed. "I hadn't really thought about it. But there could be real danger, I suppose." His arm tightened around Giesela a bit. "I was more concerned about how effectively Lady Celi could possibly hope to govern, but… you'd better keep your younger brothers close."

I wanted to say that Conrart, at least, could look after himself, but it wasn't true. For his age he was phenomenal, but he was still small and adolescent and there was no help for that. And Wolfram… actually, Wolfram might be able to cope better than Conrart. No one would expect a child that young to raise such a conflagration. But better to make sure neither had to. "I'll make sure of it. Is there any way we can appeal to the other camp? Address specific concerns?"

"Well, I may be mistaken, but isn't Grisela Geiganhuber some degree of cousin?"

I tried not to blanch visibly. Yes, as a matter of fact, first cousin. His mother was my father's sister. He was also the most intimidating person I'd ever met, and he clearly felt I was about the least useful feature the landscape had produced yet. "Yes… But he has no opinion of me."

"I don't know him well, but I'm very sure that his respect tends to belong to those who have proven themselves in the military. However grudging the respect, I'm certain you'll have earned some now."

That hadn't occurred to me. But in that case… I knew being that arrogant jerk's close relation was no help. Gunter was an accomplished warrior, and therefore much more impressive. "Maybe… if we were both to speak to him?" Right away I regretted it. Logic would say that two warriors were better than one, that we'd have more hope of commanding enough respect to win him over with both our talents. Logic never worked out for me. I sounded like a frightened kid. "I don't know if three victories in the field will be enough to convince him I'm not his pesky little cousin anymore."

"Three out of three." Giesela grinned at me. "Perfect score. It's okay to sell yourself a little, you know." 

I blinked at her. She had a point. Clever girl. But I was more struck by the fact that she knew that. Gunter must have caught my glance. "She keeps avid track of the news, especially since I was knocked out of the fighting."

"Someone has to. And I don't have to worry about reading that something happened to you since you're home. The worst that'll happen at our house is you fall down the stairs and break your neck."

There was a brief shadow of pain that passed over Gunter's face. I shifted a bit in my chair, the only (I hope) outward sign of the urge to fold him in my arms and hold him until whatever had caused that hurt was gone. 

"Wise of you, Giesela." He pressed his nose into her hair, and when he looked up, he was fine again. I had mostly gotten past being frazzled about wishing it was me he was nuzzling. I was hopeless. "I should leave you to get settled in. We can talk more after dinner. I just wanted to be sure that one of you is aware and able to defend if need be."

"I am." I got up to hold the door for him. That was downright strange, but I got a smile for it anyway.

When he was gone, instead of unpacking I dropped onto the bed. Just a moment to be the stupid kid I'd made myself look like. No one else was going to take care of them. Anissina would help me if I could convince her it was interesting, and I had Gunter's guidance and kindness. The real burden was still mine, though.

But he'd chosen to speak to me. He'd smiled. He'd let me see a moment's weakness, let me into his plans. I pulled out my handkerchief and held it against my cheek and caught a ghostly scent of fresh sea air. I shuddered.

It was sinful to imagine him lying beside me, reprehensible to dream about deeply inhaling the scent of his hair. He was an angel. He was a hero. And I was nothing. Beside the opal I was at best a chunk of obsidian, unpolished and unrefined. 

**Author's Note:**_ I really don't know where this will go, if anywhere, but young Gwendal and his adventures have gotten lodged in his head. I promise I'll update _Only the Moon Howls_ soon. It's been a crazy couple weeks._


	2. Paying Court

I hid in my room for the next few hours. I was glad to have the excuse of my very grown-up and important conversation with Gunter. The world of the castle was a little much for me. Funny. I was perfectly at home on a battlefield, surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of soldiers, the screams of the dying and the stink of blood. Surrounded by courtiers, though, I felt quite lost. I could never stomach Mother's parties and she never made me go. I almost wished now that I had, if only for the sake of some practice facing lords and ladies of power and influence who played games far more complex than those of warfare.

I wanted plans of my own. Helping Gunter would be an honor and a delight, but if I deserved his trust, I'd bring ideas as well as obedience. Geiganhuber wasn't one of the ten, but his family was as wealthy and had as much clout as many of them. If I could, by some miracle, sway him to our side, all well and good.

But as powerful as Geiganhuber might be, he commanded only such influence as he managed to maneuver his way into, whereas his betters were secure in their positions. The Ten Aristocrats would demand more attention, and _not_ to court their favor would be to invite even more contempt. Uncle was right in that half the great families were on our side, but those odds were _too_ even. I'd have to quiz Gunter about the others. And, if I could swallow my pride, Anissina. She was more at court than I was.

Grantz, Wincott, Rochefort, Gyllenhaal, and Radford. Who was really against Mother? Who was dangerous? I couldn't even match a face to every name. Lord Von Grantz had been a friend of my father's, but that alone guaranteed nothing. Father was a distant memory, away at court or war ten months of twelve even before he'd died. I didn't know if I was a son he would have been proud of. He might have complained bitterly about me to his friends, for all I knew.

The Wincotts had a reputation of being wily and secretive with a lot more and a lot stranger maryoku than one ought to have. Gunter was probably better suited to deal with them.

The Rocheforts were almost certainly dead set against us. They'd produced the last three of Shinou's chosen, and that the new maou wasn't one of their own was the root of our problem. Coming off a few generations of near-absolute power, even with that political clout officially stripped, they were in a pretty unassailable position we could only envy. Enemies to be feared.

Lady Ermtraud Von Gyllenhaal I knew. She'd baked me cookies when I was presented at court. Her son sat on the council, and, I gathered, was entirely in her pocket. But was she an ally or did she make cookies for everyone? I didn't know if she even remembered me.

The Radfords held the smallest province of the Ten Aristocrats, but if I remembered from geography it was all ore, much of it precious metal. They pretty literally minted their own treasury and controlled most of Shin Makoku's iron. Their resources must be truly vast. Or their political leanings I knew nothing.

So after all my puzzling and assessment of the little information I had access to, I determined I really wasn't any use after all. I went to dinner sulking a little with Wolfram on my shoulders. He'd turned up about an hour before, bored with his room. It hadn't been set up with a child in mind. I'd have to try and see about some toys for him.

Fortunately, Mother hadn't decided to hold a banquet for the world, and we ate in a fairly small dining room that seated our family, the Bielefelds, Gunter, Giesela, and Anissina with little room to spare. There were extra chairs pulled up to the table and it was very airless. The heat hadn't abated a bit over the whole course of the day. I'd try to primp while mulling things over, but it hadn't helped. I was still bedraggled and wilted.

Dinner was shockingly sumptuous. That the cooks would put in a lot of effort for the soon to be crowned Maou wasn't surprising, but I hadn't guessed at the scope. This was the sort of meal one should really only have on feast days. A whole haunch of venison, quail eggs, sweet wine, horseradish-roasted vegetables, goose, potato dumplings, pastries, gingerbread… The table looked ready to collapse under the weight of the food, and it all struck me as very heavy and unappetizing. In weather that felt like the world had become a sauna, eating at all was a chore. Eating a dinner from some huge winter festival was punishment.

The children, at least, enjoyed it, getting treats they wouldn't have expected for half a year. Even Conrart, who normally spent a great deal of his time letting everyone know how mature he was, buried himself in a goose drumstick with blissful relish. Evert and Stoffel were too busy congratulating themselves on their newfound status to care much about what they were eating beyond its ostentation. Anissina seemed determined to make the dumplings conduct maryoku somehow.

I felt ill just looking at my plate and picked at it glumly. Gunter was sitting at a rather inconvenient distance, so I couldn't have spoken much to him even if I'd had something to say. I could steal a few glances, and those helped my mood a little. He was happily listening to Giesela and Wolfram tell each other dreadful lies about toys they owned and adventures they'd had the way small children will.

With three quarter of my plate untouched, I got up when Mother did. She tsk-tsked at me a bit for not eating and for being gloomy and then went on with the paroxysms of giddy joy that had been the main business of her day. Stoffel and Evert invited me along to the smoking room, apparently still not having noticed I wasn't a fan of the filthy habit. I ducked out, hoping just to escape.

A moment after I made it out, Gunter ducked into the hall looking similarly hunted. He caught my eye and grimaced. "Not to your tastes, either?"

"No." His daughter wasn't along. "Did you leave Giesela with Wolfram?"

"They're playing nicely. It'll be good for her to have a friend her own age. She spends too much time with me."

Too much time with Gunter. We all should be so lucky. "Same for Wolfram. There are no children anywhere near his age at Mother's. He's usually very shy."

"Well, good. They ought to have fun. I'd like another word with you if you don't mind." I didn't. "Alright. Can you meet me out in the courtyard in about ten minutes?"

I didn't know why we wouldn't just walk that way now, but I nodded and immediately headed there to wait for him. I got a bit lost, so I needed every second. Fortunately there's ultimately only one direction a courtyard can be—inward. So even a hopelessly provincial newcomer couldn't be _that_ lost.

He was waiting for me with a pitcher of lemonade. "I thought this might be more to your taste?"

Only about my favorite drink. I nodded with every ounce of polite appreciation I could. "Much better, thank you." I sat across from him at the little table, trying to ignore the guards and milling nobles walking across the yard. He let me finish a glass and poured me another.

"For this weather, there's nothing better." He smiled as a woman in a flouncy green dress strolled past and then leaned in toward me. "Have you thought about what I said earlier?"

"Yes." I'd done my homework, at least. "And I have a lot of questions. I know next to nothing about almost all the other great families."

"No doubt. I'll fill you in all I can. Which I'm afraid won't be much. I don't like this place much more than you do." His expression darkened. "All the glorious history, ancient wisdom, and grandiose treasure packed up in this glorious palace and all it manages to produce is empty warfare and petulant infighting."

I wished I knew more about him. He'd clearly suffered during his military days, and far before that. But how did one ask for a life story? Maybe I should try getting the information from Mother, but that was underhanded and more than a little creepy. "I can see that." Or at least I was more than willing to believe it.

"Right." Gunter sighed. "I'm trying not to fret, but it's difficult. The more I think about our situation, the more danger I see. I tend to believe the worst in people. You might have noticed."

"So do I."

"Oh, hardly, Gwendal. You're really very sweet." He took a long, calm sip from his lemonade while I tried not to blush and attempted to ignore my rapid heartbeat. He had really just called me… Oh… "The way I see it, we have at least something of a shot at converting everyone but the Rocheforts to your mother's cause if we're very lucky. I think. Frankly, the only ones among them I'm at all friendly with are the Wincotts. The head of the family is a reasonable man. Have you met Lord Emil Von Wincott?"

"No. Though his daughter was staying here during my presentation. She's a nice enough girl. Very young, though." She was only in her sixties. And being very nice probably wouldn't last, as I understood she spent a lot of time hanging around Anissina.

"She is. In any case, I think we'll be able to win them. I'll see if I can handle that and let you know if I need your help."

"I think I can talk to Lord Von Grantz." I was rather thoroughly intimidated by the mere thought, but I had to do _something_.

"Good." He nodded. "But just recruiting is treating the symptoms and not the cause. We're just tipping the scales on internal division."

I thought Gunter was being a little impractical on this count. "Is there some panacea that'll make Lord Von Rocheforte forget he was all but guaranteed to be next in line for maou?"

"I suppose not." Another sigh, deep and drawn out. His eyes were distant. "All this squabbling leads to power plays among aristocrats, and the ones who suffer are never the ones who stand to gain." He looked right at me. I immediately forgot to breathe, eyes locked on his. "I sent so many young soldiers off to die. Saved as many as I could, but I had my orders. For a righteous cause? No, for conquest that made the Twenty-Fifth Maou look better and quieted his opposition."

"Oh." I couldn't look at him after a moment. I'd been so excited about my command I hadn't thought much about that. And if I had, I'd have assumed the cause sufficiently just and the soldiery patriotic enough that it didn't matter. It would have been an honor to die for Shin Makoku. That said, I was rather glad I hadn't.

Gunter might call me sweet, but his was a far gentler spirit than mine. I remembered the wounds he'd suffered much too vividly. Probably taken protecting some inexperienced footsoldier.

"I want peace for this country and safety for its people." He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Not that I'm advocating any foolishly pacifistic policy, of course. Humans are always going to be hostile and we must always be equipped to defend ourselves. But I _do_ want what's best for us all." He looked at me alsost pleadingly, as if afraid I'd accuse him of cowardice.

"Of course. That's what I want, too." I hadn't given it any thought before, perhaps, but it seemed like a good idea.

Gunter smiled, apparently reassured. My heart fluttered just a little. "Celi as Maou is… well, what's chosen by Shinou is fine with me." Not the most gracious compliment Mother had ever received, but it summed up my own feelings as well. "But what I really see here is a chance to secure something better than the corruption and rivalry that's come to define what should be the noblest and greatest country on the globe."

He was heroic in his ambitions. Gunter wanted to change the world. My own intentions were certainly far more modest. I wanted my family safe and to be left alone. If at all possible, to gain just a little fraction of the respect my father had once commanded. And, in dreams, to know the taste of Gunter's lips. But to be included in his grand dream… Maybe on my own I'd achieve at best mediocrity, but if anyone could make a just and idyllic reality, it had to be him.

I was swept up in the intensity of his dream for the moment and didn't think to question. "I'll do whatever I can."

"Thank you, Gwendal." He smiled and stood. "I'd better collect my daughter. Have a good evening. See what you can get from Von Grantz. The sooner the better. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He turned.

I wanted to say something. Anything, but hopefully something appropriate to the beautiful dream he'd just let me glimpse. I didn't even manage a stammer, though, beyond, "Goodbye." I watched him walk back inside, his hair catching the light breeze under a lamp to create a cascade of silver fire.

I dreamed of him that night. And it wasn't one of those innocent, sweet dreams where I happily gloried in his magnificence and my pure love, either. It was one that left me blushing and mortifyingly… sticky when I woke. I could still feel him. And I didn't exactly feel rested. More shaky and hot. And filthy. My aspirations on my idol were too shameful to entertain awake, but my desires made themselves known when I let my guard down in sleep. I didn't know how to stop it. And honestly… I didn't want to.

I sat up and tried to ground myself in something approaching reality, rubbing my temples and berating myself. A glance out the window told me it was early, barely past dawn, but I didn't dare go back to sleep. It'd just start again. I put an extra blanket down on the bed. It'd seem strange in this weather, but if Mother walked in and noticed stains, she'd never let me hear the end of it. Hopefully the maids were circumspect.

I stared accusingly at myself in the mirror. Mornings were never my best time, and between the withering heat and my less than rejuvenating night I was quite bedraggled. I really had gotten taller and less gawky, but at the moment I didn't look like anything but a scruffy kid wilting in the summer heat. And the sun wasn't even up properly.

Hardly the right deputy for Gunter's crusade to save Shin Makoku. But I'd do what I could. I snuck down to the baths, getting lost a few times and hoping no one would see me. I was half convinced anyone who looked could see my shame, though I also knew, rationally speaking, that I just looked sleepy and sweaty.

The baths were very rejuvenating. I suspected the water of infusion with mild healing energy, which would have seemed a wasteful indulgence any time but now. At the moment, a godsend. I cleaned away grime I hadn't been able to scrub off. When I got out of the bath I no longer felt the dust of the road and all the sweat of the hated summer clinging to me. I even felt less horrible about dreaming Gunter into my bed.

Though if I thought about that one more than a moment I'd be going right back down the road to indecent perversion. So I forced the image from my mind. I braided my hair to keep it off my neck and even managed to dress tidily.

It was too early to try to track down Lord Von Grantz. I checked on Wolfram, who was still asleep. Taking him for a walk would have been a good excuse to go exploring. I'd make my own, then. I couldn't live in a place I didn't know inside and out.

The day had broken. Breakfast would be served soon. This was about when I usually got up. I wasn't as crazy as some (Conrart) who'd rise before the sun just to prove they could, but I liked to get a start on the day. Apparently that opinion wasn't shared by the assorted gentry assembled at Covenant Castle.

There were mostly servants around. I walked by the stable and felt my mood lift a little. I loved horses as much as a little girl, and it was one thing I wasn't too proud to admit. Such graceful, beautiful animals, brimming with loyalty and intelligence. You could befriend a horse like you never could a person. I ducked inside, deciding to forgo my explorations for a few minutes to visit the riding stock.

I found Miss Giesela standing on a box on tiptoe to peek over a stall at a wiry chestnut mare with a white star and bright eyes. "You have excellent taste in horses, Lady Von Christ."

"Hi, Gwen." Normally I'd have bristled. I did _not_ care for nicknames. Even from my mother. But she was so cute. And, more insidiously speaking, being friends with her got me closer to her father. "But she's Papa's, not mine. I'm just visiting her because she gets lonely."

I'd taken this mare for a resident of the palace. She was a very fine horse. And I could just picture Gunter riding her, hair and cloak in the wind, eyes locked on some distant point where all would be right with the world if his heroic vision got there in time… Alright, I was being silly. "I see. She does look glad to see you."

"I didn't get to bring my horse because there's not enough room. Mine is black and he's kind of little. His name is Alabaster."

"Funny name for a black horse." What a picture the two would make together. I envied her a bit. Mazoku-bred horses can live thirty years or more, but eventually they ride into their last pasture. I'd just lost Nightwing and hadn't had the heart to replace him. I wondered if I could go riding with Gunter when I found a new mount I liked. Giesela could come. I didn't mind her.

"Yeah, a little. I named him after the prince in a book Papa read me." Giesela smiled. "Do you have a horse?" I told her about Nightwing and she patted my hand with a gentle smile. I felt much more comforted than I suppose I had any right to. The same calming goodwill that suffused the very air around Gunter came from her as well.

After a minute I suggested breakfast. This was prompted by my stomach growling rather loudly and a giggle from her. We early risers headed back toward the castle together. There was no sit-down breakfast, just an array of bread and fruit and hot drinks and so on. I poured Giesela juice and got her a blueberry muffin, then sat down to tea and toast for myself.

Mother turned up a few minutes before I'd finished and could have excused myself easily. She sat beside me, beaming. She really was happy, and I was glad to see that, but she was even flightier than usual. I hadn't guessed this was possible.

"Gwen, did you know there's going to be a ball tonight? Just to meet everyone before the coronation tomorrow. Of course, I know just about everyone who's here, but it'll be good for you boys!" She patted my shoulder. "You ought to get used to parties, too, so don't give me that scowl."

I didn't know which scowl I was giving her. I _did_ have an array. "Isn't there going to be something after the actual coronation?"

"Well, that, too." She blinked at me in mild confusion, as though this were eminently obvious.

Damn it all. I just nodded. She was right, much of a blow to my pride as that was. I wasn't going to be able to live in seclusion anymore. As the heir to my equally cranky father I might have been able to get away with it, but not as the maou's son. Not as Gunter's right hand. I'd learn to cope with rooms full of loud people.

Mother was many things. And one of those things was undoubtedly insincere. But she seemed honestly pleased when she kissed my forehead, causing a bit of a blush I didn't even try to hide. (For one thing, my audience consisted of Giesela, a housemaid, and a cat.) "It's lucky I already ordered formal clothes for you! Come by my room this afternoon and we'll make sure they fit."

"I have formal clothes."

"…You have your father's old ones, Gwen. You've gotten much too big for them." Ah, well, that could happen if one didn't go to a formal event for a few decades. Though that I could possibly have grown out of my father's hand-me-downs was hard to swallow. "And the livery was getting faded. The new ones, well, you can actually tell they're green."

Mother continued to chatter. In the end I was grateful. She filled up all the time I might otherwise have spent talking myself out of talking to Von Grantz with inane observations about the palace and quite a few more pieces of fashion advice. I excused myself from the now rather crowded table and went to find my prospective ally.

I was admitted to Karsten Von Grantz's room by a pretty maid. He was sitting with his son, reading letters. I decided not to pay any special attention to Von Grantz the younger. We were introduced and I nodded politely, noting he was built roughly along the lines of a large bear and was about ten or fifteen years older than I, but beyond that I didn't have much to say to him. Mother really was going to have to help me learn the art of small talk.

"So, Florian's son." Grantz sized me up for a moment. His was a steady gaze. No hostility, no real interest, just a cool assessment. He'd been a soldier from the moment of his sixteenth birthday, I knew. He probably approached every new factor with the same calm scrutiny, but I still felt like a bug under Anissina's magnifying glass. "Making a name for yourself these last few years, I see?"

"To some small degree." The maid poured me a cup of coffee. Ah, nectar of the gods. I felt my nerves smooth a bit just smelling it. "I don't believe a handful of victories toward the end of a long war is anything but a beginning." I didn't want to be _too_ self-effacing, but three successful battles could easily be luck.

"Sound just like your father." He set down his papers, which I took to mean I'd earned at least a little of his attention. "You look exactly like him, too. It's more than a little unnerving."

"So I've heard." And got pretty tired of hearing. I certainly didn't take after Mother. Where else would I get my looks? "When did you reach Covenant Castle?"

"Yesterday morning sometime. Before the worst of the rush, though the Radfords and Rocheforts were here before me." He smiled rather blandly. "Both interesting company."

I nodded. "Considering the circumstances, they would have to be. As I understand it, Lord Von Rochefort is more than a little disappointed in Shinou's choice."

"He isn't the only one surprised at our great progenitor's decision." Von Grantz set his coffee down. His expression was still unreadable. "I'm sure you'll take no offense?"

"My mother is a very strange choice." No one harbored any illusions. "I've given it a lot of thought. Shinou's decisions may have led Shin Makoku into Difficult situations, but what happens when his decrees _aren't_ followed is worse." The country had had some dark times, but I believed they'd have been darker if Shinou's will had been contested. Sometimes there were no better candidates to rule. Sometimes circumstances called for the unorthodox.

But aside from blind trust in an ancient warrior, the fate of anyone who disobeyed was grisly and the nation always suffered, so his right to authority was pretty well proved. Frankly, I didn't trust anyone _that_ much, even the venerated Shinou.

"Thinking of the twenty-first maou?"

"The thirteenth, but yes, her as well." As I understood it, Lysanne Von Wincott was still waiting to die, and I preferred not to think about the rebellious queen. At least in the case of the Thirteenth Maou, Oswald Von Bielefeld had passed into legend. He didn't remain alive in anyone's memory anymore, and you were safe from envisioning a flesh-and-blood person undergoing such torments.

"Interesting." There was a long pause. I set my coffee cup down, refusing to freeze while I waited for his reaction. The little clinking sound managed to ring in my ears. "You're a cautious man, Lord Von Voltaire. Much more so than Florian. I wouldn't have expected it from that hotblood's son."

That was no answer at all. "There's plenty of impetuosity around me with two younger brothers. Someone has to keep a cool head."

"Hmm, and I suppose you had the benefits of learning from your uncle and stepfather…"

"Lord Von Grantz…" I was used to being the youngest lord in the room and being talked down to a bit. One reason I detested functions like this. "While everyone you've mentioned was no doubt a strong influence, I'm not a child. I'm speaking for an as myself." I didn't really have much of a temper. It took a lot to provoke me. But no one could be even-keeled forever, and I felt just a bit of a twitch in my left eye. Maybe Gunter's respect was inflating my opinion of myself.

Grantz sighed. "Well, I hope not. Someone with a bit of sense has to look out for your Mother's administration. I don't really trust her husband or brother overmuch."

Oh. Alright, maybe my temper _was_ quicker than it should be. "I… thank you."

We chatted amicably for a few minutes. I even had a very brief conversation with Adelbert, though about what I couldn't say. Now that I was at least sure of his attention and _probably_ his support, I really just would have preferred to leave. Just the short talk was a little much for me.

It was only midmorning. I was determined to explore more, and to try to find Gunter and report my success. I managed the former, but only because I looked through most of the castle and didn't find him. I had to be content with trying to learn at least the layout and the locations of principle rooms. I wandered until lunch, after which I took Wolfram to practice riding and then was dragged away by mother to try on new clothes. I was very glad of my early morning triumph. Otherwise it would have been a hopelessly banal day.

Parties, in my experience, didn't really begin until an hour after whatever was printed on the invitation. Everyone was always fashionably late. But this was the soon-to-be maou's first public event, and when we all walked in the room was already packed. Mother was resplendent in her first black dress. Lord Bielefeld complemented her well. Uncle Stoffeld and Raven moved as their usual stately single unit. I busied myself with Wolfram and Conrart to avoid having to assess any more of the crowd.

That tactic didn't last long. Conrart and Wolfram's half brothers and a few more of the adolescents dragged to the party by parents ran off to sit in a corner being mature and bragging. Wolfram found Giesela almost immediately. I was glad they both had a chance at better friends now than Stoffel's isolated old seat allowed, but it robbed me of my excuse for isolation. Wolfram was getting too old to be my perpetual excuse, it seemed.

I turned around to find a corner to slink into, hopefully not the one occupied by the twenty year-old pests, and almost walked into Gunter. He had a way of turning up behind one. He was very formally dressed, his hair up and his lilac robes edged with silver braided into deep purple silk. There was a young woman on his arm. She was very young, not much more than a child. Old enough, and very lovely. I still felt a pang of jealousy.

"Gwendal, this is Lady Suzanna Julia Von Wincott." She held out her hand and I kissed it. She held it at a funny angle, and when I stood I realized her eyes were too blank and still, not following me or the movement in the room in a normal fashion.

"Pleased to meet you." Her voice was incredibly calming. From a girl that age I expected either squeaks or raucous proclamations. I really only had Anissina to base that off of, after all. I felt myself soften a little.

"You as well." It remembered my manners. "Are you enjoying the party?" We were only about twenty minutes in, but the inanity was all I could think of.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to stay long. Father worries so much about me at functions like this. I don't know what he thinks will happen, but He always needs to protect his little blind Julia." She smiled tolerantly. Discerning for her age indeed. I could see why Gunter was courting her good opinion. I just hoped very strenuously indeed he wasn't courting it for reasons other than Mother's security. The girl was barely marriageable, but she was lovely and wise all the same. She'd suit him.

I bowed slightly. "Then enjoy what time you do have." I heard a few strains of music beginning.

Gunter smiled at me, then at her. "Might I have this dance?"

"If you like."

They walked onto the dance floor together. As with Giesela, Lady Wincott made a perfect picture with him, pale and delicate and graceful alongside. I forgot all my diplomacy for a moment, all my restraint, and glared.

"Gwnedal!"

Rich magenta gloves clamped onto my shoulders. The hands they encased had the kind of strength that comes of handling a socket wrench. "Wow, do you look sour. Who's your boyfriend's girlfriend?" Anissina let go of my shoulders and swung around in front of me to stare after them.

"Gunter is dancing with Lady Suzanna Julia Von Wincott." It didn't help to even dignify her jibes with responses.

Anissina cocked an eyebrow at me. I was surprised to find her in a proper dress with a full skirt. The sort of thing she never wore, because it might trip her or get caught in some gear or other. It looked completely strange. "Gwendal, you're being ridiculous again."

"Oh, be quiet." I was _such_ an adult.

"Shut up and dance with me." She grabbed my arm and dragged me out in front of various couples before I could escape. In full view of the assembled crowd I couldn't twist away. Damn. "Now try not to crush my toes."

"I'm not that bad at dancing." If she was going to make me do something so very ignoble, she didn't have t make fun of me as well.

"Then prove it. Because every time I've seen you dance it's for half a song before you make an excuse to go stand by the wall."

"Fine!" Issuing a challenge, was she? I had plenty of pent-up frustration to get rid of. I might be indifferent at most gentlemanly pursuits, but I could dance, for heaven's sake. I stopped trying to hold her at maximum distance and gripped her waist and hand properly. The song was _Paracelsus_, a slow, solemn song with long, smooth notes and drawn out movements. It suited me well enough to make competent dancing look better, or maybe I was just trying that much harder than usual. Anissina kept up with me without difficulty. I almost had fun.

I was a little dazed when the music ended. Having spent fifteen minutes with Anissina not exchanging threats and insults was strange and it was even stranger to have relaxed so completely around so many people. I took a moment to pause and pant. The musicians left a long gap between songs for people to find partners and catch their breath.

As I straightened up I heard someone clap a few times, slowly. I expected sarcasm and turned, ready to glower. It was Gunter. Lady Von Wincott was standing beside him and smiling, looking off into space.

Anissina ducked around me to greet the younger girl. It looked like they'd met before. I ignored them, feeling more than a little sheepish.

"I'm surprised. From what I remember of your footwork I wouldn't expect you to be so light on your feet." Gunter was teasing a bit, but I didn't mind. His smile was as simple and honest as ever. And he hadn't tried to ascribe my dancing to either parent, which was refreshing after a day like this one.

"It's something of a hobby." And I'd gotten better with the sword, too, though I'd never show him. "I spoke to Lord Von Grantz today. I believe he… is prepared to agree with us."

"Excellent." He smiled more warmly this time. "Well done. But try to relax for the evening, can't you?"

Well, I could _try_. I was about to say as much when the music began again at a much faster tempo, a high, tinkling tune interwoven with complex harmonies. I considered asking Anissina to dance again, or even Julia. Just to have something to do. I turned to ask one of them.

Anissina grabbed my shoulder and shoved me away. "The ladies are talking about interesting things, Gwen. You'll have to dance with Gunter."

I hated, hated, _hated_ that horrible harpy. There was nothing I could do at the suggestion but go pale and try desperately to find a way off the dance floor and into a dark alcove with a glass of strong wine and paralyzing humiliation for company. My eyes darted to the side, looking for any such alcove, any out.

"Oh, if you'd like to." Gunter nodded pleasantly enough to me. "It seems we may have lost the girls."

My mouth had gone dry and my pulse was racing, but somewhere I found it in me to nod stiffly. For a moment his arm was halfway around my waist when he paused and laughed. His laugh sounded like spring rain and soft waves to the tune of silver handbells. "You're taller. I suppose you'd better lead."

That made sense. Trying to keep my hands from trembling, I slid my arm around him. How many dreams had shown me just this picture as a tantalizing, hopeless delusion? His fingers twined with mine. I was glad we were both wearing gloves, because I knew my palms were sweating. My heart was pounding in my ears.

This would most likely never happen again. I stopped quivering to make myself take in everything. The way he felt against me was incredible. No dream could do more than suggest what being pressed to the one I loved would be like. Even through the thick cloth of his robes and my gloves I could feel his slim body, muscle and even, faintly, the ribs underneath. I knew he was stronger than he looked, but I'd never been able to feel it. One of his hands settled on my shoulder, the other lifting his robe delicately. He had long, slim fingers and a firm grip. He'd be wonderful at massage.

That was one step too far. If I let my imagination go anywhere while we were still pressed together… Well, the consequences would be nightmarish. I was already feeling a bit warmer than I should have been.

When I took the first step of the dance he moved with me. His coordination, unsurprisingly, was perfect. He was the most graceful creature I'd ever seen, but I'd only been able to admire that movement from without, looking in greedily. Now I could feel his movements, gauge every little shift in stance and balance. With one energetic twirl his hair was blown into my face. He apologized, but I was almost too delighted to answer. His hair smelled divine, and was soft as silk. My cheek felt blessed for the contact all the rest of the dance.

The song was over much too quickly. With Anissina, I'd enjoyed myself but been perfectly happy to let go. Now I could have clung forever. When would I get a chance again to hold his hand and his waist and smell the herby, fresh scent that was always with him? I wanted to kiss him so badly. The last strains of the song disappeared with me carefully restraining myself.

"You've improved. We might make a swordsman of you yet." Some of my distress must have shown despite my best attempts. Gunter patted my hand as I stepped away. "I'm teasing, of course. I know you don't especially care for it."

"I don't dislike swordplay, but one of my younger brothers would benefit much more than I." I bowed rigidly. Anissina and Suzanna had gone off, so I couldn't begin another conversation. "I'll see you later in the evening?"

"Oh. Certainly. I suppose I should make some more rounds. Half the guests I haven't seen in decades." He shrugged and turned away. He was still smiling, but it wasn't for me anymore, but for the benefit of a pair of pretty, dark-haired women waiting to be asked to dance.

I went to find a window seat to collapse on. Giesela and Wolfram were running back and forth nearby, playing some game improvised from chunks that had fallen off the ice sculptures that consisted mainly of flinging the stingy little missiles at each other. I was glad when they moved away a little.

I had danced with Gunter. The devil take the rest of this day, banality and victory both. I'd danced with the love of my life. I knew what it felt like to hold his hand and to clutch him to me, even if only in the tamest sense. Tonight's dreams would surely take care of that. And I wouldn't mind. I'd welcome it. Let my imagination do what it could now. It could hardly improve on ecstasy.

If I'd been a good son to the future maou I'd have done some more schmoozing. I'd do it later. Now I had a beautiful, precious memory to dwell on, to cement in my mind forever. Oh, I was still going to kill Anissina. But I'd thank her first.

I closed my eyes and just let myself float for a moment, trying to recreate every sensation, not letting a moment slip away.

Then I heard a massive crash, the telltale rush of too much fire in too little space finding its only available route, and a series of screams.

Damn it! I jumped up from my seat and looked around quickly. Bombs had gone off in three places. No, four. The last went off as I looked, which blinded me for a few seconds. There wasn't much shrapnel, not even that much damage. I didn't think the walls would fail. But each bomb had been places near flowing curtains and lots of furniture. In the summer heat, even with the humidity, everything was ready to go up in a flash. The smoke was already filling the room.

A few people were shouting loudly, trying to direct the flow of fleeing guests. Most guests ignored them. People were streaming out the doors and the windows. I saw a handful of smallish shapes hop out a picture window. Conrart and his cohort were fine then.

But what about the smaller children? They'd easily get trampled in this melee or left behind if they stayed clear of it. Close to the ground they'd have less trouble with smoke, but they were just kids. They'd panic.

"Wolfram!" Where had I last seen them? "Wolfram! Giesela!" I doubted I'd be heard above the uproar. Though the flames were making more noise than the people now. Most of the courtiers were outside.

It was getting hard to breathe. My sleeve caught fire and I burned my hand nastily putting it out. I kept shouting despite the acid sensation in my throat as the hot, impossibly dry air streamed in. I didn't get an answer, but the fire in one corner was behaving very strangely, swirling in a rough cylinder.

That was my Wolfram. I jumped over a burning chair to reach him. Wolfram might be able to keep the fire off for a little while, but he'd collapse the roof on them if he kept deflecting it up and out. "Wolf!"

"Gwen!" He sounded anguished.

I had no choice but to force my way into his haven within the inferno. That scorched a bit. Giesela was standing over him. She was a bit taller, and was trying to shield him from falling ash. Wolfram's eyes were huge and his arms shook as he held them out.

If he dropped that spell we were all dead. I was reeling already from all the fumes I was breathing. There wasn't room within Wolfram's cylinder for me crawl or even crouch, and if I stood up I'd take the brunt of anything that fell on us. "Wolfram, can you walk? If you go straight left there's a window we can get out of."

"I… think so." He was crying. I didn't blame him. He wouldn't make it. A prodigy he might be, but this was too much. His little body couldn't hold that much power. Giesela, I realized, was healing burns as soon as he got them, but they'd both run out of juice soon. I added a barrier of my own to Wolfram's maryoku, but the fire wasn't magic in origin. That made it harder to fight directly.

Giesela steered him. She was coughing. I pulled off a glove and gave it to her to hold to her mouth, then the other to hold over Wolfram's. "Just keep moving. You're doing wonderfully, Wolfram. Walk slowly. Don't rush."

There was a loud crash as the corner we'd just escaped fell in. Giesela jumped and pushed Wolfram forward. He wanted to freeze.

"Wolfram, go on." I fell to coughing before I could say anything more. The hot ash and fumes and air so hot it burned my lungs on its own were all making me dizzy. A small candle sconce fell off the wall and bashed me in the skull. My barrier almost fell. Wolfram shrieked as he felt the fire press harder. He hadn't summoned it himself. He'd lose control in a moment if I faltered.

I was probably going to faint. But if I at least got the children to the window. I forced the barrier back up and pressed on, whispering to Wolfram to hurry. A whisper was all I could do. My throat burned and my whole body twitched, wanting to cough until all heated, poisonous foreign debris was gone, and probably several chunks of my lungs as well.

I could see the window through the flames trying to lick at us. It was on fire. There was no way they'd avoid a burn or two, but I could minimize damage. "Wolfram, when I tell you, drop your guard."

"But—"

"Do it!" The fire hadn't spread far outside. There were already plenty of people fighting it. If I'd been able to hear a thing above the roar of the fire I'd probably have caught a summoned rain and water from all the wells and fountains rushing into the ballroom.

We were close. But the window was about to fall in. And the wall would probably go with it. This room was a nightmare, really, the walls too thin and poorly constructed to take any beating at all, built only to be pretty.

I couldn't let it fall. Not before we were clear. "Now, Wolfram!"

He sobbed but let his power go. In the same moment I picked them both up. Two such little weights should have been nothing, but in my current state I almost fell to the floor. It'd probably have killed all of us. I had to jump over that same chair again and then out the window. I landed in a heap outside with both children on top of me. The fire was licking at my boots, but now that I was on the ground I didn't think I could get up again. At least the little ones were clear.

Giesela was shouting for Gunter. Sensible girl. I hoped she got his attention. I just… needed to be unconscious for a while. Just a little while. I tried to shove Wolfram further from the fire, but I missed. My arm wasn't where I thought it was. Funny.

Mother was yelling both our names, and Conrart pulled Wolfram into a tight hug the little one didn't even try to fight. I'd have smiled to see my brothers getting along so well if I hadn't suddenly convulsed with the strength of my coughing. The fit subsided well after I'd coughed blood onto the grass.

I was barely aware when cool, long-fingered hands settled on both my cheeks, letting enough power in to put me peacefully to sleep.


	3. Crown Duel

Anissina was showing me a new creation of some sort. It seemed like a very elaborate net for catching large game. She told me very solemnly that it ran on ground-up walrus skulls, which struck me as just slightly odd. Slightly. Then the machine exploded and I woke up to my head pounding and the horribly tender, constant pain of a lot of burns.

I was in my bed. It was dim, with a flickering lamp over the bed and nothing much else. My ears were ringing and I was hit with a wave of dizziness the moment I tried to sit up, but at least I could see after a moment of adjustment. My room was pretty crowded. Wolfram and Giesela were asleep in my chair, the former clinging to his toy ermine. A woman I faintly recognized as Ermtraud Von Gyllenhaal was standing near the bed, looming over and quietly scolding Mother and Gunter.

My body was telling me in no uncertain terms that if I tried to move I'd regret it, but I didn't feel like listening. I got as tight a grip as I could on the windowsill and hauled myself up, glad I hadn't yet gotten around to moving the bed so the sun wouldn't be directly in my face every morning. Yes, very bad idea. My head throbbed and most of the rest of me complained. My chest felt like it had been pounded with a couple of good-sized mallets and my mouth still tasted of smoke and blood. I hadn't noticed many burns while I was getting the children clear of the fire, but there were plenty. My arms and legs were particularly bad. I didn't even want to move any limbs. Looking down at my hands, I was more than a little disturbed by the blisters beginning to form already.

"Gwendal!" Mother and Gunter turned together, clearly about to descend on me with concern. Lady Ermtraud beat them both to it.

"Don't be stupid." Her voice was pleasantly sweet and soft, but definitely firm. "You're probably out of danger, but the state you're in is still nasty. And some idiot let a concussion victim go right to sleep." She shot a look at Gunter. I was angry on his behalf, though, really, it had been pretty stupid. He looked very contrite, though, and I'd never be able to blame him. In fact, I wanted to walk over and comfort him.

"It can't be that bad." I was horrified to hear my speech come out a little slurred. That candle holder had whacked me harder than I'd thought.

"Lie down." She was smiling, but smiling in a way only venerable dowagers can. I obeyed. "We should be able to take care of the worst of the burns by morning, and at least close up that gash in your head. But you'll still have to get back on your feet on your own."

There was a limit to what magic could do, of course. I'd have nodded, but didn't feel the need to tempt fate quite that brazenly. "Was anyone else hurt?"

"There were a few burns." Mother seemed to have recovered from the shock of being brushed aside. "And bruises and I think one broken toe. But you're the worst by far. Poor Gwen." She very gently ran her fingers over my forehead. "You're such a good boy."

Mother wasn't always the best at expressing herself. I wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to get across, but I could be sure the general message was sweet and grateful, so I smiled at her and let it go. She really did mean well.

"Ermtraud says you'll be alright, so I'm going to go and check on the others. And what a nightmare this will be to deal with in the morning." Mother looked rather pained, and I was willing to bet it was more at the thought of coping with the aftermath than at the evening's casualties. "I might just have to bully Stoffel and Evert into it, hmm? Anyway, I'll see you in the morning, Gwendal." She left, and Ermtraud went with her, sending me one last admonishing glance.

Oh, for heaven's sake, she was already willing to let them take over her duties? This was going from bad to worse. Would the coronation still go forward in the morning? With half the guests nursing burns, a probable traitor in our midst, and an investigation into the blatant and very effective attack on us, it seemed like a bad day for a party. Then again, caving in and canceling the affair might well be exactly what the saboteurs were after. I was inclined to immediately suspect the Rocheforts, but there was no hope of proof if the family had half a brain between them. And one couldn't discount the threat of some of our old enemies on the human side of the border having orchestrated or at least assisted in the assault.

We needed a meeting set up right away with all Mother's advisors, or at least all the ones we could trust. I'd reluctantly include my uncle and stepfather, but having Gunter's and Anissina's input would be more valuable. Our tenuous conquests of the Grantz and Wincott families might be useful but shouldn't be relied upon. A full examination of whatever was left of the room was in order, as well as a visit to the local priestesses in hopes of a decent divination. And we'd need spies placed.

I really ought to get on that now. Without thinking about it too much (busier thinking about how I might get the world saved in time for Mother's enthronement), I started to sit up again. Bad idea. I reeled and fell back on the pillow, biting my tongue as I tried to keep from cursing loudly. In three battles I'd never been injured this badly, and the helplessness was as bad as the pain.

"Gwendal." Gunter's fingers brushed my cheek again and I saw the gentle green glow that meant his healing powers were flowing. I'd been healed by maryoku before for small things, a badly sprained ankle, a nasty cut from a sword that fell off its rusted hook, a bout of influenza. It had always felt awkward and… invasive. I'd be healthier at the end of that, but not feel much better. But most who had this power didn't bother to hone it, preferring flashier, more combat-oriented magic. It was a skill usually wielded more awkwardly than my own adolescent attempts at swordsmanship.

Gunter, however, healed with the same gentleness and grace he did everything else. Rather than a hot, prickly sensation being forced through whatever of me was suffering, I could have been standing in a spring breeze. Around the head wound and my various burns, even in my overstressed lungs, I felt a sort of electric tingle, the kind of shiver I sometimes got when a huge storm rolled in a moment before the rain started.

"I'm sorry I let you go to sleep. I wasn't thinking clearly, and you seemed to need it." He pulled his hand away. I wished he'd put it back, whether or not he went on patching up my burns. "Here, this is for the pain."

Kind of him. I usually preferred to avoid such aids, but burns hurt in a unique way that I knew would drive me mad all night, and my headache was no picnic, either. I drank the dark liquid from the flask he proffered. It tasted like mud, but good-tasting medicine contradicts some law of nature.

"Better?" I said yes, though it hadn't even begun to kick in so soon. "Gwendal, I don't know how to thank you."

I was confused for a moment before I remembered I'd—sort of—rescued Giesela. I shook my head the tiniest bit. It still hurt a lot, though it wasn't quite as bad. "Wolfram did most of the work," I said weakly. He'd kept us all alive. All I'd added was telling him which way to walk and some help with the barrier. Well, and made sure the candle sconce fell on my head and not one of their fragile little skulls. If it hadn't been for Wolfram's incredible skill we'd all be burnt to a crisp by now.

"I'll be sure to thank him as well, then." He sniffed, and I realized his eyes were glimmering in the lamplight. "You saved my baby, Gwendal."

Protesting further that I hadn't helped much would change nothing. And it had been insensitive of me to protest in the first place. He was a father and his child had been in mortal danger. Of course he was fragile right now. It stung, but I moved my hand to cover his. I'd glory in helping to comfort him for now and leave praise where it was due for later.

"I was… I was near the door. And it's common sense to get outside quickly. She's a sensible girl. I thought she'd be right behind me. By the time I realized she wasn't outside, the fire was too high… I did try to go in after her, but no one would… would let me." He pulled out a fragile white handkerchief and held it to his eyes. Despite the pain I squeezed his hand gently.

He had such perfectly smooth fingers. By contrast, there were calluses on his palm from all his swordwork. It gave his grip a little more texture and made the silken skin seem all the more delicate in comparison. I felt a deep indent on his wrist that I guessed was a scar from a blade slipping past the guard on his sword. His knuckles were very thin and bony, the first two a bit larger, which suggested he was a bit of a boxer as well as a swordsman. Such a strange mix of delicate and solid, strong and brittle. His hands had such personality. I forgot the sting of my burns in learning the contours of my love's beautiful hand.

But didn't quite let myself forget I was trying to comfort him, not feel him up. "It wasn't your fault. Rushing in would have meant you were both in danger. If it hadn't been for Wolfram…" My power over the earth was practically useless in a room full of burning manmade artifacts. A more skilled sorcerer than I could manipulate, at least a little, anything that sprang from the earth, stone, wood, refined metals… but not me.

"Better that than leaving her…" He sniffed, and I realized he wasn't just being a bit sentimental. He was crying.

I couldn't let that go on, though I was a bit confused. She was safe, after all, and though he hadn't saved her himself… I recalled our conversation the night before. Gunter seemed to worry a lot that he might be considered a coward. Was that it?

I sat up. Painful, but necessary, and I got to take his other hand. I refused to let myself be lost in that touch, though. "No. No, it wouldn't be. She'd want you to go on living, as would we all. But seeing as she's—"

He cut me off. "How many times have I been told that? It may be true, but it doesn't change much of anything, does it?"

How many times? Giesela hadn't been in such a desperate situation before, had she? Or maybe she'd been ill? I was completely confused. He seemed to realize this a moment later and lowered his handkerchief, looking over at me. He was pale and there was a burn on his cheek that had gone completely untended. "My older brother and my fathers died defending me. And that was all anyone could ever say to me. They'd have wanted me to go on. Of course they would have. That didn't change that they were gone, that I'd lost them to senseless, stupid power struggles, ignorant humans and violent traitors…"

Oh, by Shinou… My grip tightened. It hurt, but I didn't care. Such sufferings. And he must have been so young. He'd told me when we first met he'd taken his title at sixteen. He'd been younger than Wolfram. A quick mental calculation placed that at the end of another of the last maou's wars. And Rochefort spite would have taken his daughter from him as well. No wonder he was so shaken. "Gunter, I'm sorry." My voice was rather stilted. There wasn't a right thing to say in such a circumstance.

He closed his eyes for a long moment. "I shouldn't be so touchy. It's over and done, and Giesela doesn't have a mark on her, thanks to you." I didn't deny it. "You'll have to help me investigate this horror. But only once you've recovered. And don't try to rush that. I'll see you later, and try to at least help the headache."

More of his flawless, delicate healing? Divine. On a sudden whim, I raised my hand to his cheek. I handled medical magic with nothing like his aplomb, but I knew it was hard to use such powers on oneself, even for a master healer like Gunter. And I wasn't feeling that exhausted, thanks to his foolish decision to let me sleep. I was quite willing to forget the danger it might have been.

It was only a superficial burn, and I had the deep satisfaction of seeing it fade to almost nothing in the few seconds before he gently pulled my hand away. "Gwendal, it's sweet of you, but don't. You… need all your strength." He sighed, then smiled. "You're too good. My hero." He stood and let go of my hand. I tried not to feel abandoned. "I'll let you sleep. The, er, little ones were going to wait until you woke up and I'm afraid it went on too long." He nodded at Wolfram and Giesela. "I don't want to move them."

"Don't. They're no trouble." Wolfram might well have been found there in the morning anyway. I didn't get the impression he liked his new room at all. "I'll see you in the morning."

"I hope not. By all rights you'll be asleep for all that's left of it." His eyes darted out the window, and I noticed a slight silver sheen to the horizon. I must have been asleep a long time. Ah, more guilt. I'd kept Gunter up so late.

He smiled and waved. As he stepped into the more brightly lit hallway, I noticed the scorch marks all over his robes, some crinkling at the tips of the loose portion of his hair. I winced. Poor Gunter.

Come to think of it… Before I stretched back out on the bed I felt around for my own hair. My braid had half burned off. Fortunately there was enough left to keep tying back. With short hair I looked younger and much gawkier. Not much in the grand scheme of things, but one final irritation to top off this terrible evening.

But it wasn't really so terrible as all that, was it? The draught Gunter had given me was beginning to take effect, and none of the pain was so bad. I felt sleepy, not just exhausted. And I had the night's sweet memories to hold onto. The nightmarish flames threatening my baby brother and my soul mate's daughter would probably sneak their way into a few night terrors, but…

Gunter's hands. The smell of his hair, the incredible feeling of being held against him, feeling his heartbeat and his breathing, the perfect smoothness of his steps, gliding, ever-shifting equilibrium to match every movement I made, the two of us moving as one, for a moment becoming one, close enough to breathe one another's breath. I wasn't sure when I slipped from imagining to dreaming. Between trauma, exhaustion, painkillers, and an ample dose of love, I didn't care for once that I was being so horribly lascivious.

I dreamed of him, just once, without shame, of his hands and his hair as I'd come to know them tonight, of leaving behind a room full of unwelcome onlookers and walking the halls hand in hand. Of undressing him in my bed the way I'd always want to.

Morning came, or at least some time with light came. I was faintly aware of whispering Wolfram and giggling Giesela (Mother would like those for flower names) leaving an offering of candy and a rather battered handful of blossoms from the garden. I think I muttered some appreciation, but I wasn't really aware. Mother visited, and even Stoffel. I managed to wake up just a little for Gunter.

And thoroughly embarrass myself. Even through a haze of mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion, I blushed when I realized he was there. And when his hands rested above me and on me, I suspect I may have sighed a little. I know I reached for him. Caught myself, but probably not in time. I hoped he'd put it away to fever, but I fell asleep with him still tending to me (idiot!).

The first person I was really, properly aware of was Anissina. That just wasn't fair. I sat up feeling lead-limbed and groggy, and definitely in pain, but generally much better. She was knitting away at a bird of some point and grinned wickedly at me when I sat up. "Oh, good. You've improved."

"It hardly feels like it." My head was just so heavy. I looked out the window. Dusk. "Have I really slept all day?"

"Try four days." She let me sputter for a moment. "It seems Gunter didn't think you'd ever rest properly left to your own devices, so he slipped you some powerful concoction. He's really got some flair for academic sorts of sorcery, slogging through old alchemical texts and such. I'll have to ask to borrow his notes."

"What?" There was a brief moment in which I was angry at Gunter. It broke my heart, and I redirected I all at Anissina. She was right there, after all. "And who was there to take responsibility for what I missed?"

"I hate to break this to you, Gwen, but you're not really all that indispensable. Your responsibilities are all handy fabrications." She calmly purled and I seethed. She was right. She was entirely, reprehensibly right. "Your Mother's Coronation went off without a hitch."

"Really?" Pride aside, that was worth something.

"Nope. I lied. But it was a minor hitch, in comparison. The stableboy caught a human who was about to leave a bunch of nasty esoteric traps lying around the throne room under the guise of adding some more gold trim. It was a good idea, too. With your mom's concepts of decorating, no one would have noticed more gold trim."

Good point. "Has he been properly commended?" I shook my head. The ache was dull and deep and throbbing. I decided not to do that again. "The… stableboy, I mean."

"Oh, yes, Gwendal, I thought you wanted me to commend the saboteur." She rolled her eyes at me and began to cast off. "Yes. He's about Conrart's age, name of Dakaskos. Pat him on the head if you see him around. Otherwise it's been quiet."

"Except for some Rochefort hired human vermin setting fire to the throne room?"

"Reception hall." Anissina calmly watched me pale and grinned. "I lied. But you do look better, finally. I'll let him know it was certainly for the best." She was just trying to provoke me now. And it was working. "He's been moping all along, you know, afraid he did you an injustice. He mopes easily, doesn't he?"

"You don't even know him!" I wasn't sure what I was even defending him from, but… well, she wasn't being kind, and Gunter deserved only kindness.

"For Heaven's sake, you lovesick kitten." She rolled her eyes as though I were being wholly unreasonable. I was, to be fair. "I should think that bit of sensitivity would be part of why you find him so entrancing." And she was right again. This was a very bad day for my pride. "And doesn't he have the right to mope, anyway? Given what the poor thing's been through?"

"You mean what happened to the rest of the Von Christs? Do you know the details?" I'd meant not to go behind his back, but I couldn't ask him. Not when even mentioning that part of his past made him cry.

"You might, too, if you minded a few bits of history that aren't exactly of prime tactical importance. I mean, they're one of the Great Families. One of the oldest, aside from those that made up Shinou's personal guard. Decimation is going to make the books."

"Oh." Damn it, why was she always, always, _always_ right? "Could you… cite me to such a book?"

"I'll bring it to you, if you like. Reading is nice and restful. If it'll keep you quiet a while longer." She smiled and left her knitting on the arm of her chair. Within ten minutes of disappearing she was back with a rather plain tome that looked fairly new. I enjoyed a moment of that crisp, sandalwood-y smell that comes of opening a fairly fresh book and then flipped to the index.

It took some searching to find what I was after. My first impulse was to look for "Gunter," but of course that was barely shy of madness. He'd been a child, and children tend to become historical footnotes pretty easily. I eventually tracked down the name of a Von Christ summer home and began to read.

_In the autumn of the Twenty-Fifth Maou's seventieth year of reign, eight years into the War of the Kamari Shore, a ceasefire was being considered and hostilities had died down. There was a general relaxation of the border guard and general corps which proved a misstep. The victims of this error were the current inhabitants of Fallonhold, a short journey south from the capital in the Von Christ province._

_Lord Hartwin Von Christ had received a near-fatal injury in the War of the Cape one-hundred and twelve years previously, and as a result was too crippled to enter the conflict. His husband, Odell Karbelnikoff, had a weak heart and was also unfit for service. The two chose a retreat to their peaceful country seat with their young sons to avoid the war they were unable to take part in, which was to be a fatal mistake._

_The precise details of the attack on Fallonhold are unknown, due to a dearth of survivors. Soldiers belonging to a unit of Lord Florian Von Voltaire's came upon the slaughter two days later. The servants and retainers of the household had all been killed, mainly from a distance. The attack came quickly and without warning, for Lord Von Christ and his husband were discovered gruesomely murdered in their dining room with food still on the table. The mutilated bodies were carved with the sigils of several human nations._

_The two sons were presumed dead or captured for some time until one private thought to search the upper floors more carefully. The youngest son, Gunter, was discovered hidden in a wardrobe in the tower. He suffered mildly from hunger and exposure and more severely from emotional trauma. He had been hidden by his older brother. Arianwyn Von Christ's body was never discovered. It can be assumed he met a similar fate to his parents'._

_Named the new heir at only six years of age, Gunter Von Christ was entrusted first to the Spitzberg family. There was some consideration of honoring his older brother's marriage contract to Lady Cecile Spitzberg, but due to the greater difference in age this was abandoned. The new Lord Von Christ took the family title officially the day he turned sixteen and immediately entered military service._

I snapped the book shut. My poor, sweet Gunter! Why did fate always single out the truly good to torment?

But fate… almost seemed to have more in mind than misery. My father's men had saved him, my mother's family taken him in… He was even related to Anissina, though that was barely worth noting. With intermarriages as encouraged as they were, most of the great families were related one way or another. I was Anissina's third cousin myself. One couldn't rightly hold that against a man.

Did my parents' eventual marriage have anything to do with the rescue? I really doubted it, honestly, but it was sort of sweet to think of. Better than thinking about the possibility that Mother could have married… Oh, that was just gruesome. And I'd never have been born, but the more traumatic aspect was definitely the part where Mother married Gunter.

"You're right. He has every right." I set the book on the table and sighed. And what was I to that? What hope had awkward, ignorant, hopeless young Gwendal of beginning to heal his myriad wounds? His family gone in a single fell swoop, his title pressed upon him as little more than a child (for however much was made of coming of age, everyone knew it was an archaic and emptily symbolic gesture), his choices reduced to living as a ward of a wealthier family or joining the army almost before he was strong enough to hold a sword… My poor Gunter.

I lay back down and buried my face in the pillow. Nothing. There was nothing I could do to help him. Anissina patted my back and I didn't even have the energy to snap at her. I went back to sleep. Must have been a bit of the drug left in my system. My dreams were confused and ugly.

When I woke again I was alone and it was as dark as the castle got. The ever-present lanterns of the patrolling guards and twinkling in the city was disconcerting. I was used to real darkness. Deep, solid darkness that could swallow you if you weren't careful, but which was really more amenable to thought, especially given my black mood.

There was no one to stop me, so I carefully eased out of bed. The ache was there, but the healers had done their work well, and, after all, I was young and fairly strong. It wasn't comfortable, but I could walk. I tugged off the burnt, filthy pants I'd been left with. In the mirror I saw shimmery burns not quite healed, a heavy, slightly askew bandage, and an expression baleful even for me. I found a pair of scissors in my knitting bag and trimmed off the burnt hair. Moving carefully, I dug proper clothes out of my wardrobe. It was silly to dress in what was likely the middle of the night, but it made me feel a little more myself.

I couldn't put boots on. The worst burns were on my legs where the flames had licked largely unchecked. I could walk. Carefully, tenderly, on tiptoe, but I could walk. I found a pair of bedroom slippers and ducked out into the hallway.

It was quiet. I tried standing on the nearest balcony a while, but it had too good a view of the burned-out hall across the courtyard and I found no comfort in just being outside. Gingerly I picked my way down the stairs and slipped out to the stable to visit the horses.

It was almost properly dark inside. One couldn't leave any lit flame around so much hay. It'd be sheer madness. I let my eyes adjust and walked up to Gunter's pretty mare. She was sleepy but affectionate, and in petting her nose for a few minutes I found my spirits lifting a little. I was tired again and turned to head back to bed.

On the other side of the stable, a door was opened. Strange. Did someone else use horses for comfort? I was still in shadow and kept still, not really wanting any conversation from anything on two legs. Maybe I'd go unnoticed.

Silhouetted in the light from the yard were two figures, one a tall, solid young man and a very petite girl in a full skirt. Oh, I supposed that could be a use for the stable, too. I swallowed, feeling myself blush, and took a slow step back, wanting a quick escape.

Then I realized the girl was struggling. His hand must have been over her mouth, or she was too frightened to scream. Hard to make out in the dim light, but she surely wasn't glad to be here. Straining, I could make out muffled, whispered pleas to let her go. Her companion was clearly having none of it.

Bastard. As he dragged her down the corridor, probably in search of an empty stall, I readied myself. He was twice her size easily. It would be unconscionable to let him get away with this. I was in no condition to fight, but with the darkness on my side, I'd be alright with proper timing.

I punched his jaw. Not the most sportsmanlike, but I figured that in harassing tiny women in too many skirts to run, he quite forfeited all right to be treated in a gentlemanlike manner.

He punched back, but he wasn't very good at it and his eyes weren't as adjusted to the dark as mine. He only grazed my cheek. Painful, but only due to the burn there. Not that I was very good at it either. My next swing went a bit wide. But it was enough to let the girl bolt away.

My adversary spun around and lunged after her, but she was fast enough to dodge out of his way. As she darted outside, I recognized her as the maid who'd served my coffee in Lord Von Grantz's room. The man I was fighting I didn't know by sight. I had a vague idea I'd seen him about the palace, but in what capacity and under what circumstances I had no idea.

He glared and hit me. This time it worked. He cursed at me a bit, too, but I was reeling from the smack in the jaw and didn't quite catch the diatribe before he stormed away.

I stumbled outside. The girl had fled. Sensible of her. Now my chin was a bit bruised on top of everything else, but at least I'd saved the poor maid and worked off some of my restless distress. I made my way back to bed, undressed with no care at all, leaving my clothes for some poor housemaid, and proceeded to sleep again for another ten hours or so.

I'd probably have slept longer, but I could smell lunch cooking and the spicy sausage called to me through my dreams. When I sat up, with almost no dizziness and not too much pain, I realized I was once more not alone. It wasn't my attentive caretaker or teasing friend, but instead my uncle. And he was glowering. Stoffel had an amiable, cheery sort of face. He could be pompous, foolish, overbearing, and interfering, but I'd rarely seen him actually angry. He just wasn't built to glare, speaking as an expert myself.

"And _you're_ the one who was carrying on about patching it up with the other side." I didn't think I'd even brought it up in his presence, actually, but let him accuse as he might. I was just confused, and at this point I didn't think I could blame the drugs any longer.

"Uncle, I have a headache. Would you mind cutting to the chase?"

"Would you mind telling me why you sprained the Rochefort heir's jaw?"

"Oh." So he'd looked pretty familiar for a reason. I didn't regret the action. What he'd been blithely inflicting on that poor girl was against any and every moral code. "He was harassing a woman half his size." Maybe I could have talked him out of it, but frankly, I doubted that. He was quite a bit bigger than me, in retrospect, both taller and wider. If I hadn't darted at him from the shadows the evening probably would have ended with both the maid and me regretting far more.

"Harassing?"

"Intending to rape." It had been quite obvious. Stoffel was being dense on purpose.

"And who was this woman?"

"I don't know. A servant." Did that matter? It was the duty of the aristocracy to protect our underlings, not exploit them. Commoners, even those not dwelling in my province, were mine to defend as a natural ruler. Abusing them made a lord into a criminal.

Sometimes I was as naïve as Gunter. But it _should_ be true. And perhaps if more of us lived as though it were, truth would come.

"For some scullery maid you increased their animosity tenfold?"

"Their open animosity, maybe. I guess I gave them an excuse to say openly what was clear!" They'd attacked us, for Shinou's sake! Nearly killed me and my baby brother and sweet little Giesela. "Or didn't you notice the bombs going off?" My voice was oddly cold. Even I could hear it. Officious, cool, and commanding. That was… strange.

"While you were sleeping off your bump on the head we captured a couple of human agents in town who still had the makings of those firebombs with them."

Oh, that was rich. "Captured… by Rochefort men?" I expected him to tell me not to be stupid. That should have been going too far. But my uncle was silent. I whacked my palm against my forehead. "They were, weren't they?"

"Oh, clever boy. Do you think it's any secret, you young fool?" That stung a bit. I had to admit, I'd been feeling clever for my deduction, but it _was_ pretty worthless. "You've made a delicate situation even more volatile."

"They almost killed two of your nephews. What delicacy is left in this situation?"

He raised his hand to backhand me. I wasn't feeling well enough to dodge, and he was fast. I resigned myself to being knocked over in the split second I realized it was coming. My eyes closed and I bit back a fury as cold as my words. But the impact never came.

I opened my eyes to see my uncle's hand neatly twisted back behind his head, a beatifically smiling Gunter holding it at a very odd angle which clearly would hurt to even try to struggle against. Such finesse. "I believe you may have overstepped your welcome with my patient, Lord Von Spitzberg."

He glared at us both with fierce malice and stormed from the room. Gunter sighed and sat on the bed beside me.

He'd defended me. For a moment I considered pretending to be more distraught than I was in hopes of some tender comfort, but that was a low stratagem I would not lower myself to, and I'd look even more childishly helpless. I couldn't help a slightly sheepish, warm smile. I was still irritated about his drugging me for a few days, but it had clearly helped, and… there was something I _liked_ about being so mastered. I liked to think of him taking care of me, though for the most part I was determined to do that for him.

"Thank you," was all I could say.

"Your uncle is threatening to pass from nuisance to real problem." He buried his face in his hands for a moment. "He was pretending there was no problem until the bombs went off. I think therein lies the rub."

"He never liked being wrong." I was really starting to see my uncle with new eyes, and I didn't like what I saw. Stoffel was officious and liked to be in charge of things. I'd never seen much harm in his ambitions and controlling nature. He'd been a help with my duties when I was younger, and while overbearing had not forced his hand. I wished he'd stay out of Voltaire business, but I'd always been able to deal with it. He'd always been kind to me, even if he felt himself to be a perfectly acceptable father figure and warder decades after I'd needed the help.

The kind man who'd helped to raise me wasn't gone. He was acting in our best interests as he saw them. But his ambition and his pride were threatening to bury my mother's bumbling older brother. He'd never have _thought_ of hitting any one of us. I sighed. "He'll come around." I hoped.

Gunter didn't answer. Ah, now came my just desserts. Stoffel had reacted badly, but that didn't put me in the clear. I'd practically handed the opposing faction an excuse to act openly against us. I wouldn't be surprised at a challenge to a duel, and I'd probably lose it. Most were better with a sword than I. And refusing would lose face I could be no means afford.

"Do you think a formal apology would do any good?"

"If you phrase it properly." I couldn't read his voice, and he looked away from me. "What happened?"

There was a gentle expectation in his voice. None of the accusation I'd heard from my uncle. He trusted me to have a good reason. "There was a girl. A young maid, tiny little thing, clearly with no combat training at all. He was going to rape her."

He did look at me then, with a sad little smile. "You did right, Gwendal."

"I know." Though it meant a world to me to hear it.

"It's the world that's wrong." He rested his hand on my shoulder. He was using no power, but I still felt warmed and healed. And also just a little dizzy, but I blamed the half a week of sleep and medicine for that. Mostly. "We'll find a way to fix it. In fact, this could be a blessing in disguise. If we patch this conflict up well, then they'll have to reach a very public truce with us."

"It should be in my hands. I'm the one who made the… Who caused the incident." It hadn't been a mistake!

"Ideally. And it's admirable. But Gwendal, you're not quite the born diplomat. And if we do all get involved, then we can use this as an open ceasefire. Between Lord Von Voltaire and the heir of Von Rochefort it's only a personal matter."

He had a point. I nodded. "However we can use it."

"And keep in mind why the Rocheforts are powerful. You may not have any official position as the maou's son, but the world knows you'll be wielding a lot more power and influence than you would have had you simply been the son of Cecilie Spitzberg."

"Hardly fair."

"It never is. The whole of Shin Makoku will know you as a powerful piece of this equation. You'll just need to be sure you're a player and not a pawn."

I'd gladly be Gunter's pawn, and I practically was. I smiled at him. He was kind and wise and gentle, and although it didn't erase the damage I'd done, his approbation made me at least hope that reparations could be made. "Right. So we've got… workable suspects for the attack on Mother's party?"

"They were clearly involved. It's simply a matter of proving who hired them. And you can imagine how well that will go. I'm glad you're back on your feet. Anissina's been some help, but hers is… an exceptional sort of assistance."

"Try her on interrogations." It seemed the perfect use for her talents. Though she'd probably need to invent something first, just to make herself feel complete.

"Good idea. Care for some lunch?"

"How long has it been since I've eaten?" I was just being cranky, as playfully as I knew how, but… He blushed. The color bloomed slowly and brightly on his perfectly pale cheeks, creeping down to where it vanished under his high collar. I'd bet anything it kept going, but had to stop myself picturing it. A deeply flushed Gunter had associations for me that I'd guard from him forever.

"I apologize for that, but you were already being so stubborn."

"You drugged me."

"I'm sorry!"

I smiled. "Fine." His blush crept away as slowly as it had come and we headed downstairs to see what world awaited us.


	4. Battle Royal

I was just a little off kilter as I walked downstairs. Being injured did not suit me. Normally I took stairs two at a time as a matter of course. The risk of further injury was barely enough to keep me still. Of course, on an ordinary hot summer afternoon I'd be looking for excuses to stay sedentary, but the mere fact that I _couldn't_ do anything more active made me want to. It suddenly seemed the perfect day for a long ride or even some sword practice.

As I stepped onto the first floor, I heard a quiet cough and turned. Behind me was the girl I'd rescued. She looked even younger in daylight, tall for her age maybe but not more than ten years older than Conrart. She was a cheerful looking redhead and smelled like smoke and soap. She was also beaming awkwardly up at me and blushing.

I hoped for a moment that I might be rescued, but Gunter didn't even know who the girl was. And someday it might do me some good to stop instinctively fleeing any remotely emotional interaction that didn't involve my unrequited love.

"Good afternoon." I tried a smile. Probably wasn't a very good smile. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you, um, Your Lordship. I'm just fine. Thanks to you. I just wanted to thank you for saving me."

_It was nothing_ didn't seem quite the thing to say. Neither did _I'd have done the same for anyone. _Just defied common courtesy. "You're welcome." That was as neutral as it could get. "You should be more careful in the future. Or start carrying a boot knife. Well, not carrying, exactly. Buckling on. I know of a smith in town who will probably give you a good price on a pair of them. You'd better be careful about choosing, though. Your hands are smaller than they're usually made for."

She giggled, covering her hand with her mouth. I hoped it was feminine coquettishness, which Anissina had once explained to me. If it wasn't I was pretty lost. "Thank you, Lord Von Voltaire." She curtseyed and left, headed toward the kitchen.

To my everlasting horror, Gunter burst out laughing the moment she was gone. "Gwendal, has anyone ever even tried to teach you to talk to girls?"

I tried to swallow my embarrassment. Before I turned back, to buy time to force away my dismayed expression, I shook my head. "Ah… no."

"Well, you've certainly got an admirer."

I finally convinced myself to look back at him. "She's the one I rescued from Rochefort. It's no wonder she'd be appreciative."

"Yes, and you're the youngest and handsomest of the Ten Aristocrats. What I find astounding is that you really aren't playing dumb." Gunter's teasing smile was very subtle, and all the worse for it. "Being the knight on a white horse does come with some perks, you know. Damsels in distress."

"I did it because she needed help, not because…" I felt my cheeks color a little.

"I know that. Don't take everything so seriously, Gwendal. And you know, this is the time of your life meant for sowing wild oats." He winked at me. It was sort of an awkward wink, and I hoped the awkwardness meant Gunter had sowed no oats at all of his own, either, wild or cultivated.

Oh, that was an awful thought. Me or him. I tried not to seem flustered and absolutely, unequivocally failed. "I, er… That's absolutely outside my purview of interests… I mean, duties, and considering the demands on time…"

Even when directed at me, his laugh was beautiful. "Stop, stop. Dig yourself any deeper and you'll need a shovel to get out. No pretty, willing maids for you. I suppose that's more for the rest of the noblemen your age."

The rest were mostly heirs training to take over one day the duties that were all mine now. If they felt it a good use of their time to pursue pretty servants, that was their affair. Literally. It would not be mine and I found it an uncomfortable subject. Particularly with the case of Mother and her latest husband on my mind, I found the very idea unsavory.

And especially with Gunter right beside me. I belonged to him or no one. And no one was a lot more likely. In another century or so I'd adopt an heir.

"I just… I would find it unconscionable to take advantage of her or any other passing fancy and raise hopes that shouldn't be."

"Gwendal, I doubt very highly that most of the maids engaging in trysts with aristocratic scions have hopes of anything more than a bit of favor and prestige."

"Then, well, then she and I probably wouldn't get along anyway."

"So serious and so moral. You really need to learn to relax a little, Gwendal. You'll burn yourself out in the next ten years if you're not careful." He patted my shoulder. Oh, even with the teasing, that was nice. "I promise, no one will blame you for kissing a pretty housemaid." I shook my head. Hard. It hurt, but I felt it was worth it for the emphasis. "Fine. But at least try not to respond to flirting with shop talk about daggers."

I could see his point there, and nodded. By then we were down in the dining room. Lunch looked mostly over, but there was enough left on the buffet style setup to scrape together a small meal. My appetite wasn't quite back, so the meager portions didn't bother me too much.

Finding a meal and a seat was easy, and Gunter was hovering nearby, which suffused the air with general wellbeing as far as I was concerned. Once I'd settled in, though, I began to feel eyes on me. I tried to ignore the gazes, but knew I'd earned them. So my swan song was general knowledge, was it? Excellent. I tried to seem very interested in evenly distributing mustard on my sausage, but one could only remain riveted on a plate for so long.

In my case, so long being the exact length of time it took for the meal to start making me feel a bit ill. My stomach really seemed weak lately. I blamed not eating for a few days for this one, though the heat was still a problem and stress certainly contributed. I was pretty sure I'd keep the meal down, but I didn't want to look at what remained on my plate.

There was whispering. Oh, damn it all to hell. Stares I could take, but the little hissing comments I was supposed to hear, but everyone would pretend I wasn't? Those were beyond me. I should have asked for lunch to be brought. I was getting twitchy. I needed to knit something. Or get in a fight. Another fight. Maybe one with knitting needles as weapons. Anything to get out of this room where every noble in the castle was passing and had a comment to make. Quietly.

Then Wolfram popped out from under a chair and climbed into my lap. "You woke up!" he said cheerfully, hugging me around the neck.

"Yes."

"Good. I was worried. You looked really sick. Plus I wanted to say thank you. And make sure you weren't burned too badly." He looked truly distressed. I didn't want him fretting and forced myself to soften my look.

"Oh, you've burned me worse yourself. Remember when you used to set your crib on fire?"

"No. I was a _baby_ then."

'Ah. Right, how silly of me."

"Wanna know something?"

"Alright."

"Conrart has a _girlfriend_." He covered his mouth and giggled. "Her name is Emily and her father is a knight of Von Wincott and she has red hair."

I couldn't help but feel he was a little young for that, but thanks to antiquated tradition the kid was an adult. And just because Conrart could relate to people much more readily and naturally than I meant nothing for me, or so I told myself. "Well, that's good for him."

"But girls are _gross_."

Personally, I agreed. I wondered if Wolfram shared my distaste for the opposite sex. Well, he was a bit young to tell. Everyone believed in cooties at Wolfram's age. "What about Giesela? Don't you have a girlfriend of your own?"

"No! She's a girl and she's my friend."

He'd be saying that a very many times, wouldn't he? I smiled and ruffled his hair. "Don't give Conrart too hard a time." There was a certain amount of trouble Conrart had making friends. His ancestry was no secret. "It's okay to tease him a little, though."

"Good." He smiled wickedly. "Oh, yeah. Giesela wants to say thanks, too. And Mama wants to talk to you."

I nodded as he hopped off my lap. What a nice respite. Now again the eyes of the room were on me. At least the crowd had shrunk as the meal began to be cleared away. Gunter had been speaking to Lady Von Gyllenhaal (I'd snuck quick glances while Wolfram spoke), but now he turned back to me.

"The good news is most seem to be on your side. Lady Ermtraud approves your actions. She's the only one to go that far, but the Wincott and Grantz lines have been officially silent. Unfortunately the Radfords seem to feel the action unconscionable as well as the Rocheforts."

"So all I've done is bring the situation to a head. There've been no great shifts."

"No. I'm not sure if things have become more or less dangerous. But once they've placed bombs I like to think things can only get better." He handed me a glass of lemonade, which I deeply appreciated. He'd remembered! Or, well, it had happened to be there. That seemed more likely.

"They didn't kill anyone with bombs."

"I hope that wasn't their intention." Gunter looked pained at the very intimation. His sweet spirit wouldn't like to think on it, of course. I experienced a brief flicker of fond annoyance, but then felt like a cad. His innocent gentleness was what I loved best. "I'm convinced that stunt was a reminder of their power and a threat, but had they intended anyone's death, the attack was very poorly executed."

"What about the second attack that was interrupted?" Hopefully Anissina's information was reliable.

"That does upset my theory a little. Another grand gesture would be redundant, wouldn't it? Did they just want to keep us all scared?" Gunter looked miserable at the mere thought. I wanted to hug him. "In any case, I think they've already spoken to your mother, and I'm sure she'll want a word with you soon."

"Yes. She already asked."

"Good. I didn't know she knew you were up." She probably didn't, but I didn't correct him. "Oh, I'd been meaning to ask. Since I've been here I've been… Well, not just me. But mostly me. Organizing a lot of the younger nobles into an organized martial practice. You know most of them are sword-mad, and with everyone together tricks get shared, I can get some teaching in, and unarmed combat gets a little attention, when it usually gets overlooked. It really does teach coordination and instincts better than fencing, you know. Conrart's already started turning up." He smiled at me cheerfully. "I know you're not naturally enamored of hand-to-hand combat, Gwendal, but I thought you might like to come when you're feeling better. Just for practicality's sake you should work on that sword."

"I have. Some." I wasn't entirely hopeless!

"Good. But practice won't do any harm. And if you're going to get in blind tussles with various heirs, you should work on your boxing." Even I cracked a smile at that. He laughed. How I loved that laugh. "Really, I can see where he hit you. Besides, with your help I can add some tactics to the repertoire."

"You were a commander longer than I," I said deferentially.

"And yet not half the officer you are. For one thing, I've retired. I prefer not even to speak of it. Sending our soldiers to die makes me ill. I told your brother the other day that I _hadn't_ been in a battle. I feel so distant from and disgusted with that self it might as well be true." He paused and looked away. I should have said something, but I came up short and my moment passed. "I was almost never the senior officer. I relayed orders. Half the time when I had to make my own decisions I made the wrong ones."

He had to be exaggerating. He'd never have remained in active service if he'd made that many mistakes. But this was my Gunter, and I knew every man he lost however unavoidable would hurt him forever. "You made the best that you could and saved every citizen you could. What could make a better commander?"

He smiled a little hollowly this time, but at least he was pretending I'd said something right. "In any case, your help would be appreciated and I'm sure you'd be a boon to my other students."

"Some of them must be almost my age."

"A few are older. Maturity and wisdom sometimes come early." He patted my hand and stood. "Not for a few days, though. I want you fully recovered. This afternoon if you're free I'll come to treat what I can."

The castle no doubt had staff doctors who should have been doing it, but I could no more deny a chance to have Gunter's cool hands against my skin, radiating peace and healing, than I could fly. I smiled as we left together. He probably went to mentor some clumsy young nobleman or save stray kittens or whatever it was he did when I wasn't playing his shadow. I went upstairs to snatch a moment before I went to speak to Mother. Or, more accurately, speak to Stoffel, clearly already more Maou than she was.

First, though, time to collect myself. I was quite mortified by the prospect of trying to teach tactical theory to a roomful of my peers, but surely I could weather that to spend time training with Gunter. I'd made a hopeless fool of myself. The little skill I _had_ gained with a sword was sure to vanish the moment he was watching. But it didn't matter. How much lower could his opinion of me get, after all?

Maybe the most hopeless student in the class might experience more hands-on teaching.

Maybe he'd finally notice me staring and punch me in the nose with those slim, strong knuckles.

I could only imagine how he'd move. Unarmed combat, was it? I'd already deduced he'd done enough boxing to suit his versatile hands to it. I might not have had a hope myself, but I'd had to learn to read how every soldier was suited to fight. Gunter's swordsmanship wasn't necessarily counterpart to his unarmed martial arts. Without a sword to complicate matters he could rely more on his long reach and speed. His movements would be even smoother, faster but less complex, springing and darting, dodging fluidly and freely. My white tiger.

"Gwendal Von Voltaire!"

My eyes snapped open and I realized I'd fallen back on my bed and wrapped my arms around my pillow. And of course Anissina had arrived to witness this particular indignity. I sat up quickly, knowing I wasn't going to recover any lost dignity. "What?"

"I've been knocking for almost a minute, Gwendal." She sat in my desk chair backwards, legs wrapped around and arms crossed atop the back. "That display at lunch was truly pitiful."

"Some of us lack your total lack of shame. I'm sure I fully earned the looks I was getting."

"Do you _think_ I bothered to care about bored nobility whispering about whose face you chose to punch, Gwen?" She raised an eyebrow at me. Then, apparently feeling the withering look wasn't nearly enough emphasis, she poked me in the forehead with a knitting needle drawn unnervingly rapidly from her sash. "I am _referring_ to your endless and silent drooling over Gunter Von Christ!"

"Oh." Lunch hadn't been more or less pathetic than usual, really. "You've referred to that whenever you're too bored for twenty years."

"Also whenever you were too content. But that was fine while you saw him but once over all those years, Gwendal." Her eyes flashed. Always a bad sign. "I'd assumed it was just your excuse for never finding yourself a paramour, since you'd have to go and talk to someone to do that. But this is clearly serious. So, Gwen, I'm here to tell you what should be and is obvious!" She was suddenly standing, one foot and both hands braced on the chair so she could scold me with maximum looming. "Stop being a first class imbecile!" That knitting needle was embedding itself in my unprotected flesh again.

"Ouch." I pulled away. She hadn't drawn blood, but I was going to have spotty bruises if she kept that up. And she would. Once Anissina settled on an emphatic gesture it stuck around a while. "I'm coping the best I can. Your concern is appreciated but please leave me to it, and don't you dare… _invent_ anything."

"I don't need any of my inventions to tell you to _stop_ coping." Huh? I looked up, blinking a bit confusedly. Knitting needle to forehead. Right between the eyes this time. "Stop suffering in silence and speak, you idiot! You may have somehow not noticed, Gwendal, but people fall in love and marry every day. Your situation is not unique. Only your singular combination of overblown nobility—by which I mean morals and not birth—and strange inferiority complex."

"Oh, marriages for love by aristocrats, that sounds likely," I said sourly. Petulantly. The reasons Gunter was too good for me and the best I could hope for was preserving our friendship would be lost on her. Utterly lost.

"Your parents were a love match."

"Mother claims to love every swain she has."

"It's Stoffel I heard it from, not your Mother. Besides, as another bit of news that seems to have escaped your notice, you have complete say. You are Lord Von Voltaire, and the only one who can make a marriage contract for you is _you_. People might talk if you opted to forgo immediate political or monetary advantage in favor of someone you can write poems about—"

Oh, she hadn't! "How did you know about that?"

"I didn't. But now I do. I'll have to read them sometime. I'm sure they're very pretty." Poke. I was seething too much to care. "Furthermore, Voltaire to Christ may not be the most materially advantageous match you could make, but I guarantee you not one eyelid in the entirety of Shin Makoku will bat at such a union, especially given both your positions at Mother's court."

"You don't understand…"

"And I don't care to understand the convoluted and self-defeating logic that's brought you to this conclusion." Poke. "It's no doubt grim, confusing, and entirely Gwendal-ish and masculine. Tell me one good reason you wouldn't be entirely in your rights to court, propose to, and hopefully marry a friend and ally of almost identical social and economic standing to yourself."

My mouth opened, but no words came out. Too young, too foolish, not nearly handsome, brave, or clever enough. Unworthy. Unthinkable. But any excuse Anissina would buy? Not a single thought came to me. Anyone could look and see Gunter was too good for me. I muttered something to that effect.

"In that case, he should be good enough to let you down gently if you've got no chance and go on being your mentor _cum_ confidante." Poke. "What have you got to lose?"

"Gunter!"

"Wrong!" I had to move backward to avoid her splitting my skull with her needle that time, and she actually hopped up onto the chair. I was surprised (and a little disappointed) that the wobbly seat didn't tip her right off again. But if it had she'd probably have kept blithely berating me. "Gwendal, are you going to spend the rest of your life shadowing and obeying an admittedly sweet and pretty if hopelessly naïve ex-Admiral? Keep devoting yourself to love poems, wet dreams, and pathetically fishing for his compliments?"

When she put it that way… I was forced to shake my head.

"Good! Because for one thing people are going to start to notice, and then where are you left? Stupid, that's where. If you were wondering." Poke. That one was for fun more than emphasis, I think. "Also you might as well be the little brother I'm pretty glad I didn't have, considering the failure the older one is. I would prefer to see you being less stupid. Now what are you going to do?"

"Sit here until you get bored and leave." I hoped.

"Wrong!" I was starting to grow numb to knitting needle jabs. "You are going to fulfill a time honored tradition of not being a whining, infatuated shadow and go pick some flowers. Once you have a nice bouquet—I'd suggest one or two big, brightly colored roses, a few small irises for uniqueness, baby's breath to round it out, and a branch of jasmine tied with some ribbon I can provide if you need it—you will ask him to join you for tea and whatever's playing at the threatre in the city. During this date, which you will never clearly state is a date, you will compliment him at least three and as many as five times, mentioning his eyes at least once. If you play your cards right, or, more likely, endearingly, awkwardly wrong, there will be a kiss goodnight. Are. We. Clear?" With each of the last three words she jabbed the bridge of my nose.

"I think you drew blood!"

"Oh, no, Gwendal. This nice little needle wouldn't draw blood. Mr. Very Pointy Stick here draws blood. See, I just now invented it.' She brandished a smaller but much sharper needle and jumped down from my chair. "Now walk out that door and ask Gunter on a date."

"But—"

"This minute, Gwendal Hieronymus Voltaire, or I start reading your love poems at dinner." I started to protest that she didn't know where my notebook was, but before I could get a word out, Anissina slammed her elbow down on the cassone at the foot of my bed and the secret drawer popped out.

Oh, right, she'd built that for me.

"Are you going?"

What was I going to say? Her arguments sounded so damn… reasonable. And that was frightening. If logic could force its way through a cloud of Anissina it was undoubtedly there and _strong_. And she was right about everything. I was making excuses. Surely Gunter wouldn't punish me with coldness for my adoration. He was too kind for that. And… Well, she was right as well that my hand was my own to grant and that it wasn't, in bare essentials, at all a surprising marriage. Any one the ten great families making such a contract with any other was barely an event. I was willing, indeed, eager to help raise his child. Our provinces were distant, perhaps, but both peaceful and largely self sustaining. No damage would be done if either of us wasn't home for a while. Mother would have a perfectly united pair of advisors to keep her rule strong and her policies wise without handing over too much to Stoffel and Evert. Conrart and Wolfram would gain an enviable brother-in-law. And I would have all my heart desired.

I'd never forgotten Anissina was in the room before, but I was so lost in this lovely daydream I was quite shocked when she poked me one last time. Thankfully not with Mr. Very Pointy Stick. "Go!"

Already I was losing my grip on the dream, but she was right. I nodded and stepped into the hall. As I opened the door there was a loud thunderclap.

"Summer storms. Come on you out of nowhere." She was smiling so demurely one ignorant wouldn't know her for the hollering, needle-wielding she-wolf of a few moments before.

A good omen, as far as I was concerned. I'd been born during a storm. Electricity in the air always made me feel better. Stronger, sharper, more fit for battle. I actually smiled.

"Gwendal!" Conrart hopped likely three or four stairs and was suddenly in front of us. "Mother's looking for you. I think it's important.'

"This is a temporary respite. I'm watching you." Anissina grabbed my shoulder and leaned in to whisper, just in case I hadn't gotten it, "Watching!"

I followed Conrart downstairs. By the time this meeting was over my courage would probably have failed me, but Anissina was probably planning on that. I'd leave recreating my determination to her, then.

"Gwendal, what happened to your face?"

"Her."

"Oh."

I opened the door to one of a dozen small offices that filled the castle, ready to be filled with diligent and knowledgeable assistants as soon as I had the time. Mother, Evert, Stoffel, and a man I was almost completely sure was Lord Von Rochefort were quietly speaking around the table. Mother motioned me in with a smile a little less brilliant than usual. Even she was disappointed with me.

"Gwendal, you've missed most of the proceedings." Wolfram's father smiled politely to rub in the neat little insult he'd snuck in. This was clearly an official meeting, and being married to my mother really made him no relation of mine at this point. I _should_ have been addressed as Von Voltaire.

I nodded, figuring there was no real answer I had to give, and sat down. This meeting was more thinly attended than I'd have liked. It certainly _looked_ as though Von Rochefort was very outnumbered, but I didn't trust that anyone was on the same side anymore. I'd never trusted Mother's husband, and I didn't know my uncle anymore.

I still couldn't believe the man had been about to hit me.

"What it all boils down to is that last night's incident was regrettable, but no more than some youthful high spirits got out of hand." Rochefort smiled at me. I wanted to punch him in the teeth. He was the sort of person one usually wanted to punch, but his current supercilious manner just strengthened the urge to give him bruises twin to his son's. But fine, let him call it that if some agreement had been reached.

"However, it's brought to the forefront the regrettable hostilities in place between the exiting and the entering royal houses." Stoffel smiled. I looked around and spotted Raven hovering off to the side. He was very good at hovering. I was surprisingly glad to have him there. Certainly nothing could change the family's most devoted retainer, gentle Raven, often more a father to me than my uncle, Von Voltaire, and any of Mother's suitors combined. He looked uncomfortable. I didn't need the hint, but my own unease grew a little.

"So we've determined that the best solution is a marriage contract between families. Wolfram is a little young, perhaps, but waiting less than a decade won't put too much of a damper on the proceedings, and Lord Von Rochefort the younger can certainly wait."

It took all my willpower not to drop my jaw and _stare_ at Evert. He couldn't… He wouldn't. Wolfram to that bastard? I might not have had much interaction with the Rochefort heir, but I'd seen his eyes and that was enough. Cold eyes opening to an ugly soul. Youthful high spirits with more than a tinge of pure malice.

I didn't doubt for a moment that my baby brother was tough. Physically he was a monster, the way he controlled his power at that age. He was assertive and bold. No one would ever push him around. But he was _sensitive_. He'd defend himself heroically, perhaps, and make anyone who wounded him regret it, but the damage would be done. And putting a bridegroom that much younger in the power of a cruel fiancé was heinous anyway. With Wolfram's rather fragile self-worth, the disaster could barely be worse.

Mother looked uncomfortable and Raven was very quietly glaring. Even Stoffel didn't really seem warmed to the idea. He might be a changed man, but no one could change that much.

But… They couldn't seriously intend to marry him at sixteen, could they? Yes, it was legal. Technically. But a marriage contract wasn't even valid until sixteen. A marriage before fifty was rare, before thirty almost unheard of. Once or twice the ceremony might take place at sixteen if circumstances demanded, but no one would let the couple live together.

Something told me circumstances would be made to demand and tradition might be waived. In Wolfram they'd have a hostage and their heir would have an easily damaged, pretty victim all to himself.

That would have to be my argument if I wanted to save my brother. I had no say, after all. Mother and Evert did. I'd never forgive her if she was swayed by her husband, but like Wolfram's retaliation, my anger would serve no purpose. The damage would be done. Between Evert and the Rocheforts my little brother would be made a pawn.

"Wolfram's too young. The contract wouldn't be binding." I tried to stay calm. It was all I could do. Express my real concerns and the façade of friendliness would shatter.

"Well, of course the agreement would technically be informal…" I was surprised to note Von Rochefort wasn't glaring at me. He was almost smiling. A very good actor? Or… what was I doing? What trap was I walking into? Now I was almost afraid to speak.

For Wolfram. "It's altogether inadvisable. The alliance would be desirable, but Wolfram is a child." I thought of another card to play. Probably one that would make various family members even more annoyed with me, but I needed to make sure this didn't happen. Quickly. If I gave Evert time to regain his foothold…

He'd have a son the child, legally, of royal families past and present, as well as tied to two of the wealthier among the Ten. And not even have to give up his heir. His advantage here was also mine.

"Besides, the alliance would be strongest if it encompassed future heads of families. Being the Maou's son really confers no official power. Wolfram won't inherit the Bielefeld title." He stood a decent chance of taking over the Spitzberg household if Stoffel didn't adopt his own heir or get married and produce one. Hopefully no one would think of that at the moment.

"Or current heads."

"What?" I kicked myself under the table for being wrong-footed enough to blurt the question out so foolishly, but I'd expected another cool, reasoned argument, not a glib response and a sort of wicked smirk. Von Rochefort looked an awful lot like his son, now that I was looking.

"Dirk originally expressed interest in a contract with _you_, Lord Von Von Voltaire. I thought your younger brother would be the better candidate, as he's likely to be at court more, but I had neglected to consider his older brothers on the Bielefeld side. A contract with you would of course be equally desirable."

I could practically hear the metallic snap as his trap closed around me. Turn down the contract and I doomed my baby brother. Let the alliance pass and, while keeping the Rocheforts from digging their claws into more power, I reopened hostilities. I didn't have a damn choice.

'Equally desirable," I echoed idiotically. Never since my father's death had I wished more for someone to take charge of the situation for me, for someone to be the grown up. I was nearly a hundred years old, perhaps, but I didn't really feel that qualified me to carefully and diplomatically handle throwing myself to the lions.

Evert was glaring at me, but the others looked relieved. I'd pulled Wolfram's head out of the noose, at least. There was that to be said. I stood up, trying not to let my knees shake. The good of nation and family, particularly youngest brother, demanded that I not lose my footing. That I not let myself look pale and horrified.

"I assume the usual contract will be sufficient. Circumstances aren't particularly unique." My voice sounded clipped even to me. Oh, _now_ Evert was smiling. It was surely obvious to all how appalled I was, but everyone else had the discretion to hide obvious enjoyment of my distress. "I'll meet with Dirk Von Rochefort later, of course. After dinner seems appropriate. We'll have plenty to discuss. I hadn't realized I'd caught his eye."

"You must have quite the right hook," Evert said mildly. But for the slightest little twitch of my eye I managed not to show a thing. I think.

"But for the time being," I said through gritted teeth. "I'm feeling a bit ill again." In case Rochfort needed reminding of another amusing victory.

"My best wishes for your health," he answered mildly. I made myself nod politely and walk slowly and calmly out of the room. When I opened the door I knocked Conrart over and almost broke the glass he had pressed to the wood.

I picked it up and shoved it into his hands. "Just use the keyhole. It works just as well. Now take that back to the kitchen."

He just gaped at me for a second. "Are you really gonna…?"

"Yes." I started walking. Fond as I was of my brother, I frankly didn't want to see anyone right now.

He followed. "But… Gwendal I've seen him practicing out in the yard. You can just tell when someone fights that dirty in practice bouts. He's…"

"I know." I swallowed. "Me or Wolfram."

"I wish I could help."

He really did. I stopped for a moment and ruffled his hair. "I'd still chose me."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't tell him."

There was a pause, and I was afraid I might have to convince him. However, the ways I generally used to coerce Conrart all were beyond me right now. I wasn't in a mood for noogies, even where they clearly needed to be applied. "I won't."

"Good." He'd have understood. That was the problem with clever children. "I'm going upstairs to rest some. If you see Gunter, tell him not to come up. I'll just be sleeping. He doesn't need to."

Conrart looked at me levelly for a moment. "No."

"What?" Did I need to apply the usual tortures after all? My heart just really wasn't going to be in it.

"No. You'll feel better if Gunter visits you." One couldn't tell with Conrart. He had such a perfect deadpan voice, such a flawless mask. Came of growing up too fast, learned both travelling with his father and living in Shin Makoku, always as half the other. If Conrart didn't want to be read, he was unreadable. I had no idea whether he'd simply noticed who my best friend was or if he knew the truth.

And before I could even try to think of a way I might figure out which, he turned and left me. I waited another moment and then walked up to my room. Anissina was waiting with a glare, but the moment she actually met my eyes she dropped not only the domineering glower but the pair of sharpened knitting needles.

"Gwen, what happened?"

"To ensure a cessation of hostilities on either side I've agreed to a marriage contract with the Rocheforts."

I sat on the bed with my knees to my chest in another moment of feeling fifty years younger than I was. Anissina sat beside me silently. After a long moment she rested her hand on my shoulder.

Had they planned it all along? Voltaire was a bit larger and more fruitful than the Bielefeld province, though no richer. I wouldn't be as easy to control as Wolfram, but I also was more likely to have Mother's ear, as well as Stoffel's, at least. Any control exerted would be put to immediate good use. I was still a perfectly good hostage. And I was already possessed of military credentials, whereas Wolfram was unlikely to ever join the regular army. He really didn't have the temperament for it.

Maybe it was me Rochefort wanted. Maybe it was just taking advantage of a momentary shift. They had about the same tactical advantage whichever of us was imprisoned by this damn contract. Either way, not only had I lost Gunter forever within minutes of having finally hoped to have him in my reach. I was where I'd exalted in never having to be, a loveless political marriage to a distasteful stranger.

I was his or no one's, was I? I was a pawn, just as he'd warned me not to be. I was a rat in a trap, a stupid kid who'd walked right into an obvious snare.

The storm had stopped almost before it began, and now the little spatter of rain was turning to an intolerable steam that made the air as heavy as I felt. Outside a bird shrieked a mockery of my hopes of a good omen. I stretched out on my stomach and buried my face in the pillow. Anissina stayed for a few minutes, sighed, and left me.

I pulled Gunter's handkerchief from its accustomed pocket and held it to my cheek for a moment, then tucked it back away next to my heart. I needed whatever strength it could lend me right now.

**Bonus:** _An excerpt from Gwendal's poetry notebook. There's a reason he didn't want Anissina distributing this drek to a wider audience, but just for fun._

When upon the lilac boughs falls the vernal rain

There appear the fleeting jewels of passing spring arcane.

A whisper of a zephyr blowing through the quaking bloom

Disseminates the fragile soul of rain and sweet perfume.

The scattered drops slide down the grain of flower, leaf, and stem,

Each one to me upon my skin a brief and blessed gem,

Each one a kiss from he I love in blossom, spring, and rain,

He who will soon beneath the hedge kiss me himself again.

…_Well, I know I'm embarrassed for him, and the guy's a fictional character. _


	5. Queenside Castle

I fell asleep somehow. The heat was probably the main factor. Lying still while I slowly broiled was a good way to lose consciousness. It also seemed as though my mind just refused to process any more of my miserable reality. Faced with the prospect looming before me, my cowardly subconscious dragged me into sleep. But it was hardly an escape.

Dreams were never easy for me. To hear others talk, their dreams were laden with symbolism, multilayered plot progression, haunting and precise depictions of their daily concerns, sharp shadows that illuminated all their secrets and cares, and sometimes showed the way to true happiness.

Not Gwendal. My dreams always came confused and vague, misty most of the time. I often dreamed of Gunter, but the visions were either filthy and reprehensible (and so very lovely) or a stream of seemingly random images and snatches of his voice. It was the latter that I dreamed now, but he was distant. I stood on an empty plain surrounded y billowing, swirling fog. When I first fell asleep I could feel his beautifully soft fingers caressing me, fleetingly. Or it might have been a breath of wind that sent the mist to swirling. I didn't see him when I thought I felt his touch, and his voice seemed to be coming from everywhere when it came. I could see, though, a tall, slim form in flowing white somewhere ahead of me. I tried to catch up with my destined one, but as is the way of dreams I couldn't reach him, couldn't build any speed.

As I slept on he grew more and more distant. Those peculiar brushes of the wind that felt like his magic or his hands grew fainter and disappeared. Could he even touch me anymore? Or maybe he just didn't want to. Gunter's tuneful voice grew more and more distant, still directionless but ever fainter. The lovely pale figure ahead of me vanished into the fog and I caught only occasional glimpses. I could only struggle to keep up, hope I was going the right way. I was exhaustednot a physical feeling but a loss of will, a heaviness of spirit that pressed harder as I fought it. It was the feeling that holds you in place while the monster is in pursuit and you can't run. The feeling of total helplessness, of the whole world wanting you to give in.

But if I lost him, no power would be needed to hold me in place. I'd have no will to move anymore. So I fought. I recognized the ground I was running over now. My tactician's mind took it all in quietly. The earth under my feet (bare for some reason) was soft and cold, wet with the droplets of fog. I was surrounded by jutting boulders, mostly worn smooth by some unimaginable force, whatever had torn the bones of the land out of the earth. I was running too fast, though not as fast as Gunter. Eventually I'd bump into one. If I fell I'd never catch up with him.

But I wouldn't make such an error. This was home, after all. This was the cool, rich earth that I'd gloried in as a child and learned my own power from, the loam and clay under my feet, the jutting rock giants beside me. The heart of Voltaire lands. My heart.

There was a light to my right. A lifeless light, a tired glow that barely penetrated the fog, but it felt like the sun nonetheless. Threatening me with its wearying heat, mocking my nearly blind quest through the dense mists. And it was afternoon. Cruel as it was, that dim and distant sun told me I was headed south. Directly south of Voltaire lands, allowing for cutting through the Maou's territory and avoiding a bit of Karbelnikoff land that jutted out thanks to some forgotten battle, was Christ's country.

Alright, sometimes even my dreams made a little sense.

He was leaving me behind. How did he move with such speed? A tiger on four lithe legs would have been left in his wake. In spite of the mist and my hurry, somehow the dream showed me his footprints in the dirt just ahead. Thin and just a little knobby, with fragile heels that left the slightest, most delicate imprints, sharp toes that dug into the loamy soil, turning up fresh, cool earth.

I could barely make him out now. No matter how fast I ran, how nimbly I dodged and wove my way through the rocks, he was always a little faster. Far from catching up, I'd certainly be left alone soon, and we hadn't even reached Christ lands yet. How was I going to find him again in this mist if I wasn't even in his country? There'd be no one to help me catch up again.

And I wouldn't take any help. I'd reach him alone.

And to anyone who believed that, I had a bridge in Cavalcade I'd be willing to sell.

My own devices had failed me. Gunter was beyond my reach, and at this point I wouldn't even know how to ask for help, let alone accept it. Despair reached a vile crescendo. I could have sworn one of the rocks shifted into my path. Or my path shifted into the boulder. Who could tell in a dream? Either way as I gave up I toppled, landing in the dirt. It no longer felt wholesome and welcoming, my homeland's rich earth, but cold and filthy.

I pushed myself halfway back up, but on my hands and knees I ran out of even that much drive. He was gone. My tears felt hot and foreign on my cheeks. My mentor, my friend, my beloved… Gone along with everything else. My childhood. My hopes. Standards. Freedom.

Without meaning to I cried out for him. And suddenly a soothing, long-fingered hand rested on my shoulder. "You only had to call, Gwen."

No time for thought. And not much capacity for it either. I jumped up, spun, wrapped my arms around him. I couldn't see his face. That mocking sun was glaring off beads of mist, but it was my own Gunter, and that was what mattered. I felt his thick, sleek hair slide across my cheek, caught in a breeze that carried his lovely, seductive scent. He was mine. I tightened my grip and kissed him.

Just for a moment, it might as well have been real. Not that I knew the least bit about what kissing felt like, but that split second certainly satisfied my imagination. And then I was completely awake. There wasn't the least transition. I didn't even blink much. I was lying in bed twisted up in my sheets from tossing and turning. The room was so hot I felt sick. Stray strands of hair were sticking to my face.

Just how foolish had I to be to believe for a moment (_again_) that I had a hope of claiming my sweet Gunter? I set about disentangling myself from tightly wound sheets, blaming the wet, salty smudges around my eyes on sweat.

It was dark. Dinner was probably close to over. I wished someone had come to get me. It wouldn't do to look like I was trying to avoid my husband-to-be. I'd suggested we meet _after_ dinner, but I should at least be putting in an appearance. Damn it, I had about three minutes to make myself look presentable…

When I finally got out of bed, I realized it wasn't as late as I'd thought. Rather than the dark of night, I was looking at thunderheads so heavy they thoroughly blocked out the sun. Not a drop of rain had fallen yet, and the air was so still, humid, and charged it was maddening. I opened the window and leaned out a ways, hoping for the rain. The world looked almost as dreamy as the landscape I'd just woken up from, every color somehow muted and unnaturally vibrant at the same time in the mad light that slipped through the clouds.

A bolt of lightening so close I thought I could feel its heat crackled just above me, and with the earthshaking thunderclap that followed the rain began to fall. All at once. A solid sheet of water from the sky. I left my head outside the window for moments, cooling off, feeling the wind pick up from a whisper to a howl in not more than a few seconds.

My hair was a bit damp when I pulled back inside, but however hard the rain had hit the soaking was rather superficial. I left the window wide open and headed for my wardrobe. The wind knocked papers off my desk, toppled my current attempt at a knitted tiger onto the floor between bed and dresser, tossed wet locks onto my cheeks where they stuck. The wildness of the storm was calming. The roaring wind was the voice of every scream I couldn't let out.

I looked through my clothes, trying to figure out what I should put on. I really didn't have any idea if I had anything becoming. I still hadn't gotten used to being anything but an awkwardly proportioned, slightly clumsy child, and I left fashion to people like mother who enjoyed it. And the thought of trying to look nice for my detestable fiancé was stomach turning.

As I eyed a linen shirt and deep green vest dubiously, there was a knock on the door. I froze for a moment. I'd wished for someone to come fetch me a moment before, but now I'd really rather be left alone, if only for another minute. Besides, it might not just be a servant or family member. What if he'd come to escort me? I didn't doubt Young Lord Dirk would want to lay immediate claim to anyone in his power.

I was saving Wolfram. "Yes?"

"May I come in, Gwendal?"

Gunter. Oh… For the first time I didn't want to see him, but only for a moment. "Yes, of course." I hurriedly replaced my clothes on the hook and turned.

His hair was up. It looked to have started in an elegant bun, but he must have run across the courtyard in the storm. Now it was wet and a bit lopsided and falling down. Locks of hair hung around his face in disarray. He was lovely in polished elegance, but this untidiness sent a shiver through me that I couldn't help. Disheveled he was a wilder angel, white tiger returned to his untamed woodland home. Usually I was content to drink him in with my eyes, but now…

The storm, the dream, and desperation no doubt contributed to the sudden impulse, but mostly I attributed my hunger to the sight of him in this odd confusion. I wanted to pull him to me and kiss him breathless, confess everything, explore that lovely smooth skin, run my fingers through his hair until it was even more a tangle, and ultimately ravish him. I actually felt my hands begin to move. My heart was pounding so hard my whole upper body reverberated; my ears and head beat along with it. I felt myself begin to flush, felt heat where I shouldn't have, and turned back to the wardrobe. Better that he watch my total ineptitude in choosing clothes than my ridiculous and absolutely filthy-minded response. "Hello, Gunter."

"Thank you."

That confused me a little. I looked back at him, an awkward movement as I was definitely afraid of turning all the way around until I'd calmed down a bit.

He met my eyes before I thought to lower my gaze. The soft, pearly lilac shade had an iridescence in the otherworldly, stormy light from the window, shimmering and even more opalescent than usual. Eyes to drown in. They were so soft now, welcoming but mournful. "I wouldn't have been able to make that sacrifice."

"For the country, my brother, every one of us…" I swallowed. I wanted to talk about it, wanted at least to hear that I'd done the right thing, to be thanked, but I didn't quite trust myself to discuss it. "It wasn't really hard, in the end. It doesn't seem to me that there's any other choice."

"It's certainly the best and easiest choice. For everyone but you." He pulled out my desk chair and sat. The rush of hot confusion had receded now and I felt up to talking, so I sat on the edge of my bed. Perhaps a little stiffly. "I can only imagine how you must feel…"

"Don't. It can't be pleasant." Even in imagination he shouldn't have to suffer. "I'll do what I must. Learn to live with it. And it'll at least put me in a position to mediate." With Gunter in the room, shining beacon, hopes personified, everything I'd lost, I couldn't quite accept my fate. Not now. My voice cracked on that last word and I was covering my face in my hands, trying to shut it all out.

I felt his weight settle beside me. His soft hand on my shoulder. I was going to cry. He'd never have been mine, perhaps, but I was cut off so completely now. If it weren't for him I'd certainly have been unhappy, but I could have accepted this unpleasant development. After all, there were ways around everything. Except forever being denied my love.

"He's a brute, Gwendal. I feel awful. We're throwing you to the wolves to save our skins. I only wanted you to know at least… I'm grateful." He paused for a long moment. He was just going to make me cry. I'd never expected to wish Gunter away! I needed to steel myself. Alone. Dreaming of him was safer than his really being there.

"It's good to hear." My voice was not allowed to tremble. Even to my ears it sounded dead. Hollow. Lost. But better that than on the edge of tears.

"Don't give up hope, Gwendal. He's a lout, perhaps, but he's still younger than you are. He may improve. You may improve him! Teach him manners and conscience. I'm sure there are worse prospects with whom to go through life." I couldn't bring myself to answer. He surely meant well, but when Gunter's voice was so deadpan the emptiness of the words echoed all the louder. At least he meant for me to feel better. "Gwendal, there wasn't… someone else, was there? Someone you'd have preferred to marry?"

I winced and froze halfway, every muscle suddenly rigidly tense. There was no question what answer I'd give, of course, but giving it caused me plenty of pain nonetheless. "No. Of course not."

"That's not an _of course_ at all, Gwendal." I wasn't sure if he believed me or not. "A handsome, young, noble war hero? Don't tell me candidates aren't tripping over themselves to reach you. Ah, but you're too moral and dutiful." He smiled at me. Or I thought I heard a smile in his voice. I didn't trust myself to look at him.

I wanted this conversation quickly derailed. "You sound as though that's something foreign. A little ironic with you speaking. Do you need a receiving line outside your manor house to handle the prospective paramours?" An edge of bitterness? Maybe. Such would have been hard to avoid. But I was also honestly curious. I'd never had a chance to outright _ask_ about his romantic inclinations before. Who wouldn't be falling over themselves for Gunter? His beauty alone was beyond what belonged to gender or even mortals, something divine.

"Some of us are meant to be lonely souls, Gwendal. But I wouldn't count you one of us. You've got more to offer." He patted my back gently. "At least you won't be sacrificing a marriage you wanted, Gwen. But I won't pretend you should be happy. If you need help, you know to come to me."

Lonely soul. That sounded just right for me. My heart was obscured in a rime of ice that would melt only for my younger brothers or Gunter. The former two wouldn't need me much longer. The latter was gone (and also annoying me just a little at the moment.) Gunter, however, shouldn't be let to be lonely. He deserved better. He deserved devoted love.

But that wasn't really what had my attention. He didn't want to discuss this with me. I'd been hoping he might open up, tell me a secret or two that was his, not his ideals'. But I was not invited in. Because he was a lonely soul or because I wasn't worthy I didn't know.

I was hurt. Couldn't help that. It stung worse than hearing my lie from Gunter's lips, disavowing the love that could never be embraced. And however hard I tried to excuse him, I was irked. Gunter was saying quite the wrong things to comfort me, and while in some part it wasn't his fault, I couldn't imagine anyone in my circumstances being consoled by such awkward optimism.

He wasn't perfect, was he? There was more to his weaknesses than that charming clumsiness. After so many years admiring every move I imagined him making, the realization came as something of a shock. His ideals, admirable as they were, were born of naivety. One might even say foolishness. He was flighty. He was too trusting. He had to keep the whole world at arms' length, fleeing its ugliness so he could cling to his belief in fundamental goodness. So much a paragon of talent and virtue, he didn't know how to be a real person. My brave, righteous Gunter was really a bit of a flake. An emotional wreck. In denial, trying to escape an awful past, hoping to craft a future where everything that he'd lost would be found again, unable to embrace or even reluctantly accept the world he had.

I felt terrible for entertaining such thoughts, but the floodgate was open. I closed my eyes, lost in a sort of cold bitterness, the insight hitting suddenly and brutally that my love was not an angel beyond my grasp but just one more soul blundering through the world.

Perhaps a fallen angel, a lonely angel. When I opened my eyes again, the bitterness was gone. Hero worship was gone too, for the most part. I'd never stop admiring his military career, his courage, gentleness, skill in magic, academics, and swordsmanship. But I loved a man, not an ideal. The moment I spent realizing Gunter had his faults I also spent growing up, and my love for him grew with me. Deepened. Strengthened.

I straightened. He shouldn't have to worry about me. Gunter had plenty to worry about on his own. "I'm sure he'll learn. There's no reason the boy can't become a reasonably tolerable helpmate in time. And the only way I'd _ever_ marry would be for the sake of a situation like this one, anyway."

I sounded cold even to myself. Yes, marriage among aristocrats was generally a monetary and political affair more than an affair of the heart, but to say it so bluntly was crass.

"You're an old soul, Gwen. It's hard to remember I'm meant to be the mature one. I do wish you'd allow yourself a few pleasures of youth. Discipline, sacrifice, and duty are all well and good, but…" He trailed off. I had a sense Gunter knew no more of what the _pleasures of youth_ were meant to be than I did. "Well, in a marriage like this one, no one would really demand or even expect fidelity…"

Gunter blushed as he spoke. I stared for a moment. That was the kind of thing I expected to hear from _Anissina_. "Why… do you feel the need to take such interest in my… recreation?" At least I didn't sound so cold. I could almost forget the wedding in my embarrassment, a resurgence of what I'd felt when I first saw Gunter in his state of damp dishevelment.

Oh, and that loveliness hadn't lessened in the least… Far from it. Now that he'd dried off a little he seemed even more becomingly tousled. Oh, my imagination needed to be kept under a much tighter reign. At least I had an excuse to be blushing this time.

He sighed, looking almost as uncomfortable as I felt. There was even a little bit of a blush. "That wasn't handled well, was it? You remind me of myself, Gwendal, and I'd like to see you turn out a bit happier. That's all. Something I've never been good at working out…" He was dithering just a little, and twisting a handkerchief nervously in his hands.

"Reminding anyone of you is quite a compliment." I thought that was safe to say. What wouldn't I have given to be like him, to have such beauty and skill. Then I might deserve him. "Try to worry less, Gunter. I'm happy enough. And there are worse fates than a political marriage." It was flattering to know he worried.

"I'll try. Poor enough at running my own life as I am, I should at all costs stay out of another's, hmm? But it's hard not to be concerned over a friend." He smiled, still looking a little awkward. Poor Gunter. He meant well. And he was just so cute, untidy and awkward, uncertain as Conrart at his dancing lessons. My Gunter was fragile. Even if I couldn't be his lover, I'd stay by his side. I'd protect him. Whenever marriage didn't demand my attention…

"I appreciate the concern. But it _is_ needless."

"I wouldn't say entirely needless. But I did come to see you for another reason." He collected himself rather quickly. "This has been a trying day and you're still injured. If you make yourself ill it'll be the worse for us all."

"Oh." If there was anything in Shin Makoku that could really cheer me up, it was being worked on by Gunter. He seemed to expect opposition, but I nodded obediently.

"Thank you. I was feeling a little sick." Of everything.

"We'll fix that. Your injuries will be healing on their own pretty well by now, but we need to look after that knock on your head carefully, of course, and general healing energies will aid in your natural recovery. Lie down."

Gunter didn't heal like a doctor, I realized. He wasn't trained to be a healing witch. He had talent, honed mostly likely on the battlefield, but he lacked the meticulous, businesslike approach I knew in every professional healer I'd seen. He worked in sweeps, grandiose movements and outpourings of power, gentle nudges toward what needed healing but a general suffusing of his patient with his magic. That was why it felt so achingly wonderful. I was drowning in Gunter's power, Gunter's essence. I was glad he'd had me lie on my stomach. My responses, from shy, timid smile to the too familiar stirrings of insistent, electrical heat, we easily hidden.

His hands rested on my shoulders when he finished. Oh, divine favor. If that moment could have lasted eternity I'd have found heaven. I wished dinner weren't getting close. Gunter's concern, for the time being, was mine to milk for all it was worth. His sweet sympathy was mine. Manipulative, unforgivably selfish, and whorish it might have been, but I could no more give up his attentions than breathing. These little crumbs of happiness were all I could have henceforth. I'd treasure them.

"Gwendal, what do you do to yourself? There are knots like ropes in your shoulders." I felt his fingers tighten. "This almost feels like bone."

"Er…" Probably came of spending most of my free time hunched over books or work in my study. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to apologize for the state of my musculature or be offended.

I heard a thin sigh. "I'll fix it." And suddenly those thin fingers were digging into my flesh with more strength than I could have imagined. As I got used to that unique sort of pain, the deep, flat, somehow pleasant jab of a very solid massage, I went from mere startlement to absolute mortification. As much as our dance this was the stuff of my dreams. Admittedly, in the dreams there were less clothes, more scented oil, maybe candles, a bath or waiting silk sheets… No! Bad imagination! I was such a miserable lecher…

"You really must take better care of yourself. I don't know what we'd do without you at this point." His fingers dug harder into my shoulders. Deep, hard, penetrating… There I went again. I suppose it was no _surprise_ that it was hard to keep my mind out of the gutter with Gunter's hands sliding over me in pure and perfect innocence. Damn innocence.

Maybe if I kept talking I'd be able to stop thinking. "You're very good at this."

"It was one way I could be of use to my soldiers. As a matter of fact, I learned from your mother. So that I could practice on her of course." He chuckled a bit. "At least you'll be loosened up for coming along to practice in a day or two."

I'd forgotten about that. Gunter's training. I smiled to myself just a little guiltily. Sure, I'd been dubious, but now I'd throw all I had into this effort of his. An excuse to spend hours with him, helping him plan his classes, seeing him teach, receiving some of his precious instruction myself… I'd become a swordsman for him. And no one, not my damn fiancé or his family or mine, could object to my devotion to improving my martial and tactical skill. Who knew when another war would break out? Who else was there to properly advise Mother should conflict arise?

"I'll be preparing. Do you want me to start teaching right away, or—" My voice cut off dead as his hands slid up under my shirt.

"Gwen?"

"Er, your hands are cold."

"Sorry. But your back is as bad as your shoulders." Just a little hint of a laugh in his voice. I was being teased, and I loved it. He was so gentle with me. Though it was hard to think of anyone as gentle whose knuckles were burying themselves in knots of muscle. We bantered back and forth and I kept my fantasies mostly at bay, and far too soon he was satisfied.

"There. You'll be much more comfortable." He patted my shoulder. "Better get dressed for dinner. That looks very… slept in."

"Right." I did feel wonderful as I got up. Between healing, massage, and Gunter the world could not have been more right. As long as I didn't step outside the magic circle around us and return to reality. "I suppose I ought to dress up a little." I sat up slowly, still seeing the occasional star.

"It wouldn't hurt. Hmm, what do you have?" He glanced at my open wardrobe, walked over, and poked through what was hanging there. He must have read my quiet call for help. "Just a step or two up from ordinary. Going in formal clothes would be entirely too much. You'll suffocate in a dress jacket in this weather." He smiled a little mockingly at me. I wished heat wouldn't render me so entirely pathetic. "However, the half cloak might do. The clasp on it is very plain. But I suppose that suits you." I stopped listening, as I'd ceased to absorb much of anything. I just let his voice wash over me and watched his lips move, his hair tossed about by the stormy breeze from the window, the ghostly, beautiful effect of lightening flashes on his pale skin and silvery hair. "Here." I was suddenly handed a pile of clothes. "That will do. I'll see you at dinner, Gwendal." He paused. "And thank you again, my friend. On behalf of everyone who won't say a word of it. And myself." He actually bowed slightly to me. Misguided as his attempts to cheer me had been, there was only sincere sentiment behind it. I felt myself melt a bit and smiled as he turned to go.

Before I dressed, I leaned out the window again for a long moment. The rain had calmed down but the air was still electric. Fading fast. With the storm I'd been strong. With luck, between Gunter's support and any residual electric vigor I could draw from the air, I'd make it through dinner.

It didn't seem so bad now. I wouldn't lose Gunter's friendship. I'd see him every day. I could even make my residence at court essentially permanent. I'd miss home, but frankly home wouldn't be the same with that irritating brat around. He'd likely lose interest in me in a few years, though. Oh, this marriage would never be less than a thorn in my side, but it didn't have to defeat me. It didn't have to take away my Gunter.

I brushed my hair and tied it back. It was a little uneven and the ends had some scorched pieces hanging on. I should have someone fix it for me. Maybe Gunter would. I smiled to myself like a scheming schoolgirl. If he was going to be such an attentive, concerned friend anyway, was it so reprehensible to use the opportunity to steal a soft caress or two? It meant nothing to him and everything to me…

Yes, I'd ask Gunter to fix my hair. But there wasn't time. I saw a dark blue sky through the gaps between the clouds. By wrapping my hair up into a sort of loose bun it hid the frizzy and blackened tips. And kept it off my neck a little, which was nice. Even I could tell that the outfit Gunter had picked for me looked… nice. I'd never be able to describe myself with a more enthusiastic adjective, certainly not visually. I eyed myself dubiously in the mirror.

Why on earth had I caught Dirk's eye, if indeed I had? I was such a drab specimen. Mother unabashedly called me the plain one in the family. I'd never cared until Gunter's loveliness began to torment me. I didn't care much now. But why? He apparently felt he had his pick of all the prettiest housemaids. Why me? I glared at the mirror and hurried downstairs. Whenever I thought to much my bleak depression returned.

Both Lord Rocheforts were at the table. I sat beside my fiancé as nonchalantly as I could manage. He smiled at me. A very predatory smile. I felt like a mouse under the eye of a sheep. And not a manju in sight.

Fortunately, before he said anything to me, a maid walked into the room with a letter she handed to my mother. She was the redhead I'd rescued. Presumably a little behind on the castle gossip, she sniffed primly as she passed Dirk and smiled at me. Mother read the letter quickly. As she began she didn't even stop her conversation with Evert, smiling and nodding offhandedly. As her eyes slid down the paper, her face fell gradually. She was frowning by the time she folded the letter back up, an expression I'd almost never seen.

She looked more distressed than she had at the prospect of selling her youngest son into captivity. "Oh, dear."

"What's the news?" Stoffel asked, looking miffed that he had to take his attention away from being exceedingly smug.

"There've been cases of Grey Plague reported in several cities along the border."

There was silence. Some faces looked stunned, some almost unconcerned. Wolfram and Giesela just looked confused. I envied them the innocence. Was no one going to say anything? Gunter was looking stunned, so I suppose the only other responsible one in the room had to be… me. "Port towns?"

"Er, I think one of them is on the coast…"

"Close the harbor immediately." There hadn't been a real outbreak of plague since before I was born. Small ones, but they'd all been contained in time. If this had already spread to multiple towns, we might be beyond the help of quarantine. Another epidemic. I snatched the letter from Mother's hands, forgetting politeness. I knew more geography than she did.

Two of the cities mentioned were on the shore. And one was far from all the others. "The towns struck are all close together… except the port town. It's already been on a ship." And it'd be almost impossible to find out which one. The letter was dated from yesterday. It might not be too late. Might. "If we shut down all exports from both cities as of now and get the navy out to make sure no one leaves illegally… Small, fast ships. Or we'll have blockade runners. And the regular army will probably need to be dispatched to watch the land routes. Those who run from the disease will bring it with them." If it were contained, if the healers could concentrate their efforts on the towns already hit, then casualties would be minimal. The illness was powerful enough to weaken a healer considerably, but with a manageable number of cases it could still be combated. I began to pace, trying to remember all I could of the last plague. This was a bit of non-military history I did know. Morbid fascination. That, and the military had been forced to become far more involved than one would like by the end.

"Don't be foolish, Voltaire." Evert scoffed openly, though at least he'd stopped pretending to be on a filial first-name basis. "Breburg is one of the country's most important ports. You know what you'd be doing to shippers and merchants all over Shin Makoku?"

"Let me guess. You're expecting a ship." I whirled on him. My fury from earlier in the day, hatred that went back to the beginning of his illicit courtship of my mother, flared all at once, stoked by this new, despicable spark. "You loathsome little insect. Do you know what the death toll was from the last major Grey Plague epidemic."

Oh, I'd wounded his pride. Wolfram was staring at me in horror, Conrart in open approval. Evert himself was seething. "I spend less time pouring over the contents of your hermit father's library than you. You'll have to enlighten me, _Gwen_."

"Five and a half million. Verified. Mazoku. There are no available numbers for humans. The entire population of Shin Makoku, if you don't know that either, is only thirty-five million, including both us and the humans."

"Gwendal's right. If we don't move immediately, it'll spread like wildfire." Finally Gunter had collected himself. He stood up as well. "I'm sure it will damage the economy far more if we lose a quarter of our people." He looked at me. "I'm not sure we need to immediately throw in the army, Gwendal. That may spark panic more than suppress it."

"As long as panic stays where it is, it stills cuts our losses." He looked like I'd slapped him. Then kicked a puppy in front of him. I wished I could take it back, but I wasn't Gunter. I might mourn any lives lost, but in a choice between saving few or many, my course of action was obvious.

But of course, it wasn't my course of action. It was Mother's. She looked as severe as she knew how as she also drew herself up. "Well, all my advisors seem to be here, don't they? I've had three votes. What are the others?"

"I'd have to agree with your son, Your Majesty," volunteered Lord Rochefort. I was glad he was being sensible, but funny. I didn't know he'd received an invitation onto the council. I was about to make a sarcastic remark to that effect when I realized he might actually have one. With Evert around, nothing was certain.

"Gwendal's right," Conrart said. I assumed that came more of confidence in me than any newfound flair for persuasion. Wolfram glared at him and then stared determinedly at his plate, clearly afraid of his father. Or maybe of me. I wished I could spare him this, but his father was a bastard. I'd never been fond of Lord Weller. At the time, he'd disgusted me wholly. But compared to Wolfram's father the human had been a saint.

Stoffel looked torn. He wasn't the wily merchant that Lord Bielefeld was, but he did approve of money and didn't approve of defensive tactics much. He probably saw steeling ourselves against a plague outbreak as a weakness. "It'd… be rash to shut down two ports, especially when one is so major."

I could have screamed. I'd have liked to shake him. Even with three voices against them, Mother wouldn't oppose her husband and brother together, not when she'd already handed the two of them most of the Maou's power, not when the alternative was taking responsibility herself. Oh Shinou, _why_ Cecilie Von Spitzberg?

"Gwendal, how many did you say died?" Mother's voice was a bit shaky.

"Officially five and a half million. Maybe as much as seven between humans and unreported deaths." My voice was hard. Apparently that mattered far less than Evert's shipment of whatever it happened to be.

"Close the ports."

I certainly wasn't the only one shocked to hear it, but I did relish the surprise of Evert and Stoffel. So Mother wasn't going to be a puppet after all. Or at least not in this. I could have hugged her.

Gunter bowed. "I'll have orders dispatched immediately, Your Majesty. If we use the Flybone Tribe as messengers the quarantines will be enacted by morning."

I only hoped that was enough time. I smiled gratefully to Gunter as he left. He smiled back. Not very warmly. I'd certainly not impressed him. And despite my victory, Gunter's disapproval left me with the sensation of having been stabbed in the gut with an icicle. I'd have to apologize, but in the end… Well, in the end I couldn't really say I was sorry. I sighed.

We finally got to eat. I pretended a lot more interest than I felt in dinner. Meals were a little less opulent than our first night, but not much. It was still all much too heavy for this heat. It wasn't even raining anymore, and the air was quickly returning to being heavy and still. And I was supposed to be eating roast beef drowning in gravy, russet potatoes full of sour cream and cheese, and drinking sweet wine? Had I not had Dirk Von Rochefort at my side I'd have stuck with the asparagus and some bread with water and left in about ten minutes. As it was, I choked the affluent mess down.

When Gunter returned I was even more determined to hide in my plate. I didn't even look up. I didn't want to know how upset he was with me. Had I lost my ally after all.

It was the first time I'd finished a plate since arriving at the castle and I felt a little queasy as dessert was brought. The mere idea of cheesecake was anathema. I stuck to coffee, and coffee was no defense.

"So, did you want to go off and get to know each other a bit?" Dirk asked me with a gruesome jollity. I cringed inwardly but nodded. Better to get it over with.

"Well, of course." I set my cup down and stood. So did he.

"Ah, and just to make things official." I had no idea what he meant until he slapped me.

The slap is one of the oldest and most storied traditions of Shin Makoku, and in the minds of most about the silliest. Anissina had told me that it sprang from the days when marriages were won through real combat, and only once the one proposing could conquer whomever they meant to make a husband or wife of could a wedding take place. That was the sort of thing Anissina read up on. Now it was merely a formality, tolerated and smiled at a bit. In some ways a measure of how bold a lover was going to be. Doing it, for instance, at a crowded dinner table with a captive audience was proof of seriousness. But it was just a tap. That was the main thing. Just a little pat.

He'd hit me as hard as he could. Something in his eyes told me to steel myself a moment before, and I braced for impact just in time. He didn't knock me over, didn't even turn my head appreciatively. It wasn't even too loud. I didn't think anyone could tell.

Which was probably better for him than for me, but all I'd gain from sympathy would be more of his animosity. It wouldn't change anything for the whole room to know I'd just been wronged. So I took that one, and met his eyes without missing a beat. "Shall we? I think there's a sitting room just down the hall."

"Sure." He hooked my arm in his. I just rolled my eyes at that. By comparison, this childish possessiveness was harmless. I was going to have to learn all over again to deal with a spoiled brat, just when I'd figured Wolfram was grown out of it. And when I had the plague to worry about, the prospect was doubly distressing. What a little pest he was.

The room was large, but somehow cozy, decorated in dark wood paneling, full of leather armchairs, and dominated by a huge brick fireplace. There was something comforting about it, and I took the chair where the fire would be nearest, were it lit. I didn't like to play these little games to reassure and amuse myself, but it was that or become afraid of him. And if I was cowed by my fiancé, I'd be reduced to the perfect pawn. Forever. "I hadn't realized you found me at all appealing. Your father surprised me." Icy politeness seemed the way to go.

"It's the hair. The rest of you… Could take or leave. It's not a bad face, but really doesn't register." He put his feet up on the table, clearly relishing being as rude as he liked, me powerless to stop it. These pitiful attacks on me were probably at his father's bidding. He badly timed, overacted insults lowered my opinion of him, not myself. "But even a single black is rare."

Enough that on first meeting people usually checked my eyes and then looked disappointed. Attacking my looks was entirely the wrong way to go, so I hoped he'd stay on this track. I could pretty easily ignore him. "I hope you'll learn to endure having only half a good omen for a husband." My tone stayed icy.

"Doesn't matter a lot once the lights are out." He shrugged. I tried to ignore him, but he was leering at me. And much more than being called plain, the look made me uncomfortable. He wouldn't dare suggest… Oh, yes he would. I knew full well no one really bothered with celibacy before marriage. I wouldn't myself if there was a remote chance of Gunter coming to my bed. But insisting on being moral was my only hope of avoiding him as long as I could.

I didn't have to feign offense. I was just offended by him more than his very thinly veiled suggestion. He even winked at me. Not a subtle negotiator. What, I'd lost him his night with the terrified maid and now I owed him that much back? It was too easy, and too depressing, to realize how his mind worked. "I wouldn't know."

"Oh, don't tell me you're a virgin." I grimaced. Couldn't help it. He got out of his chair. "You are, aren't you? Oh… Wow. Aw, you're not _that_ ugly." He touched my cheek. The one he hadn't smacked. I shoved his hand away. In this I could afford to be less than polite.

"My hope was that we could get to know each other a bit better in what time we have." I swallowed. He was still too close, even if he wasn't touching me. "If yours was to get me to sleep with you the moment our engagement became official, I have very little to say to you. You may wait for the wedding night."

I got up to leave. I didn't have to take this. I'd marry him. In the meantime I'd have nothing to do with him. How he'd come to believe that slap in the face gave him free access to my bedroom should be taken up with his parents, but as far as I was concerned he was beyond reclamation. I'd be polite in public, but if he thought his clumsy attempt at bullying me into compliance was getting him anyway, he had some thinking to do. With me on the other end of the castle.

"Bed? Be a little more creative." Hand on my cheek again. I grabbed his wrist and twisted it away. He didn't fight me, at least. "Alright, you're cute enough. And you're fiery. I like that. We're going to be married in a few months. If you're a virgin, I get why you're a little scared, but I'll be gentle." I kept glaring at him. It didn't seem to be working. "Why wait?"

Suddenly his wrist was free of my grip. Damn. He was fast as well as strong. I stepped deliberately away. "A sense of decorum and a dislike of being coerced." I was leaving! "I've demonstrated contempt for your habits enough. I'm sure I can learn to tolerate you. But if this is going to be the substance of discourse, I'll see you in mixed company and nowhere else, thank you."

I spun on my heel and made for the door, but he caught my shoulder and spun me back around. He was a martial artist. An accomplished one a knack for manipulating joints and balance. I noted this with calm detachment, ready to hit him again as soon as my feet were firmly planted. He was getting a husband and not a whore, and he'd have to learn that.

But before I was sure enough of my balance to give him a firmer rebuff, he was kissing me. Nothing like my dreams, cool, delicate, searching lips, Gunter's smell and sweetness all around me, but an invasive, vile theft of the kiss I'd been prepared to save all my life for him. He only held me in it for a moment before I shoved him back with all the strength I could. Still unbalanced myself I stumbled a bit. Bigger than me and better used to this sort of thing, no doubt, he only staggered about two steps before righting himself.

"Eventually you'll have to learn some manners as well," I spat, not bothering with coldness anymore. I was angry. I felt dirty. I wanted to flee and cry, but I couldn't and settled for nearly shouting instead. "You animal. No wonder your father needed quite the ploy to find someone to marry you."

"Shut up." He pushed me. Not just a careless shove, but a careful application of his palm to my shoulder and his ankle hooking mine, toppling me over the arm and into the seat of the nearest armchair. A rough, rather painful landing. My spine seemed displeased by its impact with the little metal tacks arranged decoratively on the arm of the thing.

I was just confused now. Forcing a kiss on me (oh, Shinou, he'd taken that first kiss from me…) I understood. He was a lout. That was all there was to understand. And that first slap was retaliation. And a test. This was just violence. If he thought he'd get away with hitting me regularly…

Wait. He could, couldn't he? To whom would I appeal? The repercussions of canceling our marriage remained. I'd just have to learn from Gunter to hit back. He'd stop eventually if I didn't just take it. I was about to stand up and push back, just to let him know I wouldn't be a _compliant_ abused hostage, when he knelt on the edge of the chair and kissed me again.

And what to do about this? Might he decide to ask his father to undo the contract if I didn't comply? His hands were already wandering. And what was I to do? Complain that my fiancé kissed me? Touched… Oh, God… Was he determined to ruin my dreams of Gunter? I was scared now. He could keep me here. I was nothing like a physical match for him, and he had me in the Gwendal trap he'd borrowed from Daddy. I tried to think of Gunter, but the idea of ever associating him with this treatment made me recoil.

It was his hand sliding up under my shirt that drew a strangled little sob from me. His searching hands were hot and dry, his mouth repulsive. He could and would make me his hostage and whore.

But not yet. I was selling myself for the others' sake when I wed, not before. Not yet, damn it! I managed to get my hand into his hair and tightened my grip right at the top of his head, one thing I did know about fighting. I twisted his head back and made him let go of me to stop from falling. In that moment I bolted.

The hallways was empty. Maybe they were all still having coffee. Or had left we two lovebirds alone. Or Rochefort had orchestrated it. I suspected His Lordship of telling his son to put me in my place. How much I should hate him depended on how free Dirk had been with those instructions.

But that I'd think on later. I didn't think he'd come after me where he might be spotted. I ran upstairs, ignoring the pain in my not-quite-healed legs, anyone who might be confused by my dash. I slammed my door behind me and fell onto the bed, and finally let myself cry.

He might not have really done much to me. A few stolen kisses, roaming hands mostly through clothes, and pushing me into an armchair. Didn't sound like much in the way of charges. But I felt plenty violated. Plenty dirty. And above all helpless. _The world's too much for me, Gunter. I'm not ready. I can't play this game. I'm a kid in the end. Please come and save me. _The plea was whispered to my pillow while I clutched the fragile, aged handkerchief. I couldn't really tell him. Shouldn't be soiling his innocent ears with such filth, burdening him with what couldn't be changed. But around him that ideal world he wanted seemed to possible… A world where I wouldn't be trapped this way.

There was a knock. I froze, horrified. "Gwendal? Are you back yet? Impressions?" Gunter. All I had to do was call. How had he known I needed him?

A nice moment of fantasy, but I didn't want to explain to him or for him to see the wreck I was. I sat up to tell him I wasn't feeling well, that I was changing, any lie that came to mind to at least give me a minute to collect myself.

But he'd let himself in. "Think you'll be able to—Gwendal!" He looked casually sympathetic as he stepped into the room, but the moment he met my eyes he blanched visibly. Without another word he walked to the cabinet containing a bottle of brandy and a few cups (standard issue in a castle room) and set a very full glass before me, pressed his fingers to my bruised cheek with an immediate infusion of healing, and sat beside me. "Gwendal, what did he do to you?"

"Nothing. I mean… He didn't actually…" It must have been written all over my face. "Nothing happened. But only because I didn't quite let it." I downed the liquor at a gulp. I wasn't a drinker, really, and it burned my throat, but I needed a little numbness right now. Maybe it'd settle my nerves, keep me from bawling to him, from making this any worse.

"Oh, Gunter…" Too late. I buried my face in his shoulder. Less upset I'd never have been able to do such a thing, but what could be more comforting than his embrace? He didn't pull back, to my surprise and even, distantly, delight. He put one arm around me. "They've got me. I can't fight him. Lose this alliance and… He can do what he wants…" I was being such a child. I had to pull myself together, face this rationally.

Gunter let me be a child for a little while, though. "No. No he can't. I won't let him hurt you again, Gwendal."

**Author's Note:**_ Wow, this story is getting so _dark_. Don't know what's up with that. My mood lately? Anyway, the way I see it is this. We are in the days before Yuuri made everything better. That's kind of a weak starting point, but there it is. Things were clearly far bleaker in Shin Makoku before him. Horrid things happened, and it's only because of the veneer of optimism through which we experience KKM that it doesn't seem so bad. Besides, the overarching theme of the show is that the bad people are the ones who manipulate others thoughtlessly and use violence to attain their selfish ends. It's just the specific _way_ they're using poor Gwen that's so… ugh. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it._


	6. The Prince

**A/N:** _Hey, guess what! I'm not dead. Sorry, guys. It's been crazy, what with school starting back up, working twice the thankless hours at the menial jobs, losing some more mobility (I actually use a cane now! It's so damn _classy_), and running a whole bunch of role playing games. Oh, what about the months before all that whirlwind of chaos hit at once? Sorry, guys, it looks like I'm just a jerk after all. Well, look, it's Gwendal! And he's… moping. It's kinda what he does. Enjoy._

I woke up with a splitting, vicious headache. The sour, mildly revolting taste of last night's brandy filled my mouth. How much had I wound up drinking? It wasn't like me at all, whatever the circumstances. And what time was it? And why did I smell Gunter's hair? Much as I loved that scent, much as it was burned into me, I probably should have been smelling sweat and alcohol. Leftover from a dream? I didn't remember any dreams. Given their pattern lately, that was a mercy.

I made myself open my eyes, ready to snap them shut again in case of midday sunlight. My vision took a moment to stop swimming. My head was half off my pillow and my hair was loose, so I stared dully into an expanse of black, stark against the sheets. A moment later my eyes fell on the sharp line where the burned tips of my inky hair were replaced by silky, shimmering waves the color of a spring dawn.

I sat bolt upright, ignoring the reeling in my head the best I could. I knew blind panic for a moment, though it was panic mixed with an irresistible excitement. Oh, the mere thought was idiotic. But so delectable, and as sensible as I liked to be, the thought of finding my way into his arms just as I found myself so despicably engaged was _thrilling_. But after the brief madness passed, I noted that we were both fully dressed and he, at least, was almost as elegantly tidy as ever, allowing for a slight case of bedhead. Knowing myself in my shameful, lusty dreams, I'd probably have torn his robes off, raked his hair in every possible direction, and left his lovely, entrancing throat covered in love bites.

Right.

I was starting to remember the night before a bit more clearly. Sitting with Gunter, mostly in silence, while he held me loosely and let me be. Maybe more because he didn't know what to say than because he knew I needed to turn things over in my mind. I'd refilled my glass more than a few times. The mostly empty bottle on my nightstand stood mocking testimony to just how many, and how thoroughly I deserved this headache. He'd had a few, too.

Well, I'd only seen him have two, actually. Perhaps my Gunter was a bit of a lightweight. I watched him sleep for a minute, staring shamelessly, eyes travelling over his lithe form, his flowing hair, the face perfectly serene (if just a little flushed). He'd been there all night for me.

In a moment of madness I leaned down to kiss him and stopped short about halfway. What on earth had gotten into me? Yes, the fact that Gunter had spent the night in my bed was making me tremble, stirring thoughts I knew better than to entertain, but he'd fallen asleep there amid brandy and brooding. His sweet tending had raised my spirits a lot, and his gentle, devoted friendship made me love him all the more. Nothing more, and no reason to risk everything we had on a (perhaps still slightly drunken) kiss.

Gambling on the depth of his dreams, I did it anyway.

Maybe it was because of the kiss Dirk had stolen from me, to erase for a moment the memory of his hot, invasive mouth against mine. That explanation sat better with me than others I could think of.

At least I was sane enough to allow myself only the briefest peck. His lips were thin but perfectly curved, delicately smooth and cool. At first, barest touch, they felt like fine lacquer, but the slightest pressure and his lips yielded, parting just a bit. He tasted of perfect bliss and hopes realized, and also more than a little of mid-shelf brandy.

Fortunately he didn't wake up, lost in the lovely, lovely dreams that Gunter must have, and I straightened without losing myself the dearest friend I'd ever have. And now at least… Oh, God, I'd kissed him. Brushed just the least bit against the silken moist lips I loved, and that would have to last me a lifetime. Now at least when my hateful husband laid claim to me I'd be able to remember Gunter's mouth and be calmed.

I rolled out of bed. By now my injuries had improved immensely, and I barely limped, but my head disapproved enough of the sudden movement that I tottered anyway, holding onto the bedpost to keep my footing. I dressed carelessly. There was no one at the moment that I really had to impress. Clearly it didn't matter much to my fiancé.

Jacket on but unbuttoned, I leaned my forehead against the mirror inside the wardrobe door, collecting myself for a moment. It was time to grow up. Thinking back over the past few days, over all the time since arriving at the castle, I'd been behaving like a child, making and breaking resolutions, telling myself over and over again that I finally knew my own mind, that I'd changed, that the world had changed… When I was a child, I reasoned as a child. Time to put aside childish things.

I loved Gunter, even began to understand him. That would never change. I was duty bound (and honor, and affection bound, too) to my mother and brothers, even Stoffel and Raven, reluctantly the Bielefelds and Anissina, and I would serve and protect them all. I was a power in Shin Makoku, beholden only to the Maou, and that duty I would embrace wholeheartedly. Love, family, and country. Those I would take with me. Everything else belonged to the child Gwendal and I would have to leave behind.

As I straightened and finished I heard a yawn and a squeak from the bedsprings. Gunter was sitting up, shaking his head disgustedly and then covering his eyes, hiding from the too-bright sunlight. "I apologize for that, Gwendal."

"No need. There's plenty of room in the bed and you were a great help last night." Gunter looked more hung over than I was. Rather readily overcome was my White Tiger. I smiled a little. Wryly. "Thank you."

"Er… you're welcome." He lowered his hands and his eyes met mine. "You're taking this very well."

"How else can I take it?" I was chagrined by all the carrying on from the night before. There'd been nothing to warrant such a scene. "He's a hateful, spoiled idiot, but I'm sure I can deal with him, and my marriage will bring us unity, stop the worst of the infighting at court. It's well worth a little discomfort."

"That's not exactly what I… Never mind. A little, perhaps. This effort on your part is nothing less than heroic." He stood, swayed just a bit, and stepped toward me. "You needn't be so stoic, you know." His delicate hand settled on my shoulder. Lovely. "…Are you certain there's no one else?"

"No one."

"You don't need to keep secrets, Gwendal. You know that, don't you?"

I closed my eyes a moment, breathing deep. "You're a bit of a romantic, aren't you, Gunter?"

"In my lonely way, maybe." He sighed. "It just seems as though it'd explain a bit. But no explanation needed for finding such a worthless fiancé a torment, is there? I won't bring it up again."

How could anyone be so clever and so oblivious? Gunter was rather severely lacking common sense. And he _was_ a romantic, though more often applying those sensibilities to politics than people. I smiled a tiny bit, but it didn't quite reach my mouth. The impulse didn't travel all the way. Perhaps I just _meant _to smile. I felt as though I'd forgotten how. "Thank you. I suppose you'd better get back to your daughter?"

"Oh, she'll be wandering the grounds quite happily. I don't usually see her before lunch. She likes her solo adventures in the morning. I did the same thing when I was her age."

"It looks to be close to lunch."

"Ah." He shrugged sheepishly. "Then maybe I _had_ better go. If you're feeling well enough, come along to practice. I have students from Conrart's age up through a few decades older than I am, and just about everyone learns and teaches at least a little in turns. It may get your mind off things."

"It may." I bowed to him slightly. "Thank you."

"The pleasure's mine. I'll probably see you for at least a few minutes at lunch. Not that I'm very hungry. I've never held my alcohol well." He smiled again and waited a moment. When I didn't inform him of any disgrace, he left. I think I heard him trip and fall in the hallway. Which might or might not have been the brandy's fault. Sweet Gunter.

I'd go. Come hell or high water, unless I had a case of the plague to tend to I'd appear at Gunter's practice. In the meantime, lunch. And undoubtedly a rather annoyed Dirk. I wondered how hard I'd yanked his hair. Pretty hard.

Good.

No, that way lay only grief. I was going to have to get used to him. Resenting him for all my life—all _our_ lives was a good way to give myself ulcers. On top of the ones already proudly bestowed by Anissina. He had wrong-footed me, manipulated and frightened me. He was a bully and a brat, and now that the shock was worn off, I would no longer be afraid of him. Or hate him. He wasn't worth that, the childish boor.

"Hi, Gwendal."

I jumped. I almost yelped, but at least I had some tiny shred of dignity. It was one thing to assure myself over and over that my dreadful fiancé was no more than an irritation and an act of god that I could do nothing but endure. Quite another to face the man who'd left me sobbing and frightened as a child the night before, whose hands I could still feel.

No fear. I did not concede. Forcing myself every fractional inch of the way, I turned to face Dirk, raised my eyes to his. He was, I reminded myself, not more than half a head taller than I, rather wider in the shoulders… Intimidating, but not a monster. I raised an eyebrow, and made sure to just _drip_ disdain like Anissina's bedroom leaking oil under the door. "Yes?" He would not be allowed to scare me. More.

"I… wanted to apologize." His hands were shoved in his pockets and he suddenly looked quite a lot like Conrart being brought to justice for theft of pastries from the kitchen. If he'd just started digging his toe into the ground and explaining how it was really Josak's idea all along, and were quite a bit shorter, the resemblance would have been uncanny.

"Did you indeed?" Had his father decided attempted rape was overplaying his hand? I didn't let myself be softened by the almost adolescent chagrin he displayed. He might just be a decent actor.

"Didn't realize how much it was really bothering you." Incomplete sentences. How impressive. I much preferred scornful pity to fear, actually.

"Oh?"

"Mmm. Hey, a lot of my conquests complain, but they're okay once they relax. But… I don't know. You've got…"

"A rudimentary sense of right and wrong?"

"Inhibitions. Remind me to try and get you drunk next time." Oh, foolish boy. That hadn't even worked for Gunter. "So I'm sorry. I didn't, uh, hurt you. Did I?"

I thought about claiming otherwise, but it would just have backfired when I had no bruises to show and looked like a wimp as a side effect. "No." But for the creeping phantoms of his fingers that seemed still to be sliding over me. "Your apology is accepted, provided you make some attempt at being a gentleman in the future."

"Deal." He punched my shoulder. I merely looked at him for a moment and he took a slight step back. "Yeah. Oh, and… blue eyes are fine, you know." What in Shinou's name was he supposed to mean by that? "Going to lunch?"

"Yes, I intended to."

"Oh. I… ate already. See you later, then." He turned around, paused, and turned back. "You believe me?"

"What?"

"That I'm sorry."

"…Not really, no."

He sighed. "Just asking." Dirk turned again. "I am." He retreated down the hall.

I almost smiled as he walked away. Gwendal the child really was put away! But as soon as I stopped hearing heavy footsteps retreating toward the guest rooms, I found my exhilaration melt away and my breath catch horribly. I was afraid of him. Just better at hiding it. The grown-up Gwendal, it seemed, could exist only in public. Alone, I was still my same inconstant, unhappy, over emotional self.

I stood still as stone until the half-healed burns on my legs began to ache. Maybe a minute, maybe ten. I shook my head and continued down to lunch, thinking as clearly and carefully as I could through my lingering upset.

Had his father sent him to patch this up? Did he himself feel he'd gone too far and was risking his chance at a plain half-black husband to do his bidding and share his bed? Or, remote as the possibility was, did Dirk actually feel some remorse for what he'd done… what he'd _tried_ to do to me?

Not bloody likely. If he meant to self-delude into thinking his "conquests" quickly relaxed and willingly let him have his way, that was his affair, but he must have been opposed before.

I stepped out into the dining room. It was, as usual, a buffet-style meal. A few eyes rose as I entered, but not nearly as many as yesterday. Apparently my misadventures were already old news. Or they'd just gotten tired of looking. After all, I couldn't be fun to gossip about.

I was, at the end of the day, _boring_.

Halfway to the table, I almost fell when I felt surprisingly strong little arms lock around my waist. I looked down to see Wolfram hugging me with all his strength. It was very sweet, and I felt a little better. I leaned down and picked him up. "What was that for?"

"Conrart said I should. But he's not the boss of me." Wolfram stuck out his lower lip stubbornly. His expression softened after a moment. "You don't look so good."

"Hmm, you know, I was feeling a little under the weather. I'd better sit down and eat lunch." I set him down and he walked beside me to the table. As we walked I noticed in passing as he was waved to or smiled at simperingly by everyone we went near. The cute little baby prince. His royal mother's favorite, pretty, pliable, and easily courted by the judicious application of toy horses and shiny marbles. Wolfram already had a rather more than healthy ego, except where his father and (Bielefeld) half brothers were concerned. This kind of attention was going to go to his head fast.

Wolfram and I sat together on a long sofa, eating rolls stuffed with sliced chicken. Finally there was a seasonally appropriate meal, and cold tea to go with it. Wolfram had his with about three spoons of honey, I with a little squeeze of lemon. Conrart turned up to sit with us, settling on my other side followed by his little cohort, some of them the children of nobles or knights, some servants… My little brother was a natural leader. In spite of his heritage—in direct _defiance_ of it, he called people to him, even if it was only to eat chicken sandwiches and practice fighting with wooden swords.

Admirable, and more importantly, happy. Conrart had found a niche. It was his choice what to do with it, but he'd have all his little friends at court as well as the ones in the village outside the capital where he and his father had established homes for all the half-humans. And Wolfram was the court's darling. He'd have the best tutors to deal with his uncommon magical skill and all his young whims fulfilled. My brothers were happy here. And while I sat between them peacefully, I could be, too.

Gunter didn't turn up until servants had begun to collect up the plates and sparse leftovers, Giesela in hand. I waved, but I had nothing I knew how to say to him. I wanted to tell Gunter about Dirk's odd behavior, at least, but as I wasn't sure what to make of it myself, I kept silent. I hated to speak until I was sure. Being _wrong_ rankled like nothing else.

He sat on the couch beside ours and Wolfram and Giesela, along with a couple of Conrart's friends, began gossiping about some very important matters involving a see-saw. Anyone who looked at us would have seen the loveliest tableau of peace and contentment. Even I could see it. He smiled at me.

My little bit of peace was interrupted by a cough from behind. A young servant in the caste's livery was standing in a clumsy imitation of a soldier's attention. "Lord Von Bielefeld, I'm to tell you that… That, um, the quarantine is in effect."

"Excellent." One worry put aside. I dug in my pocket for a coin or two and dropped a silver piece into his hand. "Well done."

"I'm also to tell Lord Von Christ, but… Well, I guess you heard."

"Thank you, Dakaskos." Gunter reached across to pat him on the head. "Now I can relax. And I should head out to the training yard and start setting up. I'll be seeing Conrart, I know. Gwen?"

"Cerrtainly." Wouldn't miss it for the world.

I didn't head out to the yard for almost an hour. I spent a while picking out light, loose, maneuverable clothes to practice in, making sure my boots wouldn't rub the still-tender spots too hard, tying back my hair… That took all of fifteen minutes. Then there was a lot of dithering and staring balefully at my reflection.

Walking across the grounds, I found myself hyperaware of my surroundings, focused on everything at once. I shouldn't have been so nervous, of course, but I would be showing myself at my worst while Gunter was at his best. Yes, I'd improved with a sword to the point of basic competence, but it wasn't natural. Easier to keep my mind on the cart of flour barrels that had been delivered this morning, Anissina stealthily dismantling part of a fountain for parts, a couple of cats baa-ing at each other in the garden…

There was quite the little crowd assembled in the practice yard. Gunter was sparring a tall, lithe young man with blank hair to his waist. There were a few other matches going on, notably between my brother and a little redheaded girl I took to be his legendary girlfriend. Most of the crowd was watching Gunter. And I couldn't blame them.

I walked up in time to see the match concluded. It was close, I could tell. Closer than I'd expected. The man sparring was very good. I didn't recognize him immediately, but up close I realized he was Raven's nephew. He was a few years older than I, proud scion of a nobly impoverished family, landed but not quite noble. His much younger sister Elizabeth was a friend of Wolfram's, but while we saw her often he had been off in the wars.

In a general sort of way, I liked him. He'd gotten much better with his sword since I had seen him last, but I felt only the slightest resentment. Most of my resentment was seeing that his eyes had failed to lighten since childhood, and he was still a grand, rare, and impressive double-black, just like his uncle. Damn it all.

"Gwendal!"

"Gavril." Oh, and his name sounded entirely too much like mine. I seemed to be remembering more and more reasons he rubbed me the wrong way.

"Amazing I haven't run into you yet."

"I didn't realize you were at the castle. I'm surprised Conrart didn't mention."

"Oh, you already know each other?" Gunter smiled. "Well, that's good. Quick round of introductions for the new student." He took hold of my shoulder, pulled me into the center, and fired off a round of names I'd never remember. Nothing like having two dozen people staring at me.

Despite initial mild embarrassment, I found I enjoyed Gunter's practice for its own sake as well as the time spent with him. Though some of the attendees had no titles at all, a common discussion topic was integral to the whole affair, and when I wasn't being defeated in sword fights, I could happily talk history and tactics with a couple of old, bearded knights, the Wincott heir, and the castle's wine steward.

I'd have been happy to chat with Gavril as well. He had plenty of field experience. But he seemed to be entirely too busy casually receiving compliments from Gunter. Not that I had any right to comment. I was engaged, after all.

Damn him and his handsome suavity. And doubly damn his ability to use a sword in Gunter's presence without falling on his face.

Swords, fortunately, did not dominate practice forever. I soon found myself quite able to converse intelligently (or at all) when Gunter set his sword down and began coaching a couple of youngsters in unarmed combat. I'd deduced just from feeling his hands that he must know some boxing, but imagination could never do him justice.

He wasn't a master, like he was with the sword. I didn't doubt that he might fail to impress someone whose technical knowledge surpassed mine. But just as with his sword, he moved so smoothly, gliding. He was so fast. And so… Oh, in a minute I'd be drooling. His training clothes were the same delicate purple as most of his belongings (some people just really liked their family livery), but far from the usual heavy, rather shapeless robe, his gii was on the form-fitting side. And, Shinou help me, open about midway down his chest, loosened by activity.

He also had his hair braided with a weight at the end. He used it as a rather wicked flail. I saw a few bruised cheeks and earned one myself. Actually, I earned several in that fight. I just couldn't take my eyes off him long enough to dodge a swing. So in the end, it went exactly the same way as the only other bout with Gunter I'd had.

Hardly a fact to resent. "Interesting tactic. Where did you pick that up?"

Gunter smiled at me as I dusted myself off. He'd landed a solid kick right above my ankle that had sent me toppling to the ground almost before I knew it had impacted. "A prisoner, actually, from a ship we took over years ago. I can't help but feel it's a bit of a dirty trick."

"It's effective." Frankly, I wouldn't like to use such acrobatics in a real fight, but Gunter didn't seem to want anything more to do with real fights, disavowing his military time as he'd taken to doing. And I didn't want Gunter in the way of a sharpened sword. All well and good. "Limited application, though. There aren't many with hair as long as—"

Bells rang out. From the city, not within the castle. A general alarm. Could mean an enemy attack force, an insurgence from within, a natural disaster, a massive accident… But I knew from the first bone-thrumming chime that it meant plague. Beside me, Gunter covered his face in his hands, coming to the same conclusion.

Our safeguards hadn't been put in place fast enough. Someone had jumped quarantine, or it was already out before we got the message to the towns in question. It had moved fast across the country. Spreading like wildfire.

I barely noticed Gavril extending a comforting hand to him. Or I noticed, but couldn't invest more than a fleeting moment in enraged jealousy before I bolted for the castle. Mother wouldn't handle this well. If I didn't step in immediately, it would be Evert or Stoffel directing this disaster.

They were both already in the throne room when I arrived, and Evert was still obviously holding a grudge from the night before. "Nice of you to join us, Gwen." He'd obviously arrived just this moment himself. "Pity your little barricade seems to have failed."

"May we please recriminate later? Mother, has it reached the capital yet?" Not that, ultimately, we had any right to more protection than any other city. But it was a definite strike at the country's morale.

"It's close, Gwen, and I've heard that this illness can jump on the wind as well as being carried…"

"Probably not true." I hoped. I wasn't a healer. "We've got time to prepare, then, get a task force together, organize the healers, set up a sick bay. If I can borrow a few messengers, I can get word out to the citizens about symptoms and who's most susceptible."

"Yes, yes, do that." Mother sighed. "And… close the gates. Unless it's an absolute emergency no one leaves."

"Or enters." We had to be firm about that. One refugee dying at the gates would be better than the whole city succumbing.

I didn't really think they were listening, but I kept talking to keep myself sane. "Shortness of breath and flu-like symptoms followed by a very high fever with common hallucinations. Occasionally leading to blindness or crippling. The first sign is a gray tinge to the complexion. The disease progresses very quickly. The very young and old are generally infected first."

"Yes, Gwendal, we could read this out of half a dozen books in the library." Stoffel sighed. "Messengers will be sent. There's not much we can do for now." I wasn't sure how to read my uncle, but it was pretty clear I wouldn't be allowed to have much to do with whatever measures we took. I went back outside and almost walked straight into Gunter.

"Has it arrived?"

"Not yet." I swallowed. "All reasonable precautions will be taken, or so I'm led to assume." After a moment, I met his eyes. Gunter was a bit pale and his eyes troubled, but he seemed collected.

"I'll prepare whatever information I can." He nodded serenely. "It's doubtful we'll have long to wait."

I nodded back and took my leave, watching as he moved toward the library. The weight in his braided hair made it swing like a pendulum, back and forth across his body, every slim curve of muscle I could spot… Enough. I'd keep that image to sustain me while the world exploded in crisis in all directions.

Gunter was right, of course. The first case of Grey Plague was identified in a milliner's twelve year-old daughter on Heimdal Road half a mile from the castle, only two days later. Those were a busy two days for me.

My uncle and stepfather successfully kept me out of official preparations. They didn't do a poor job, that I could see, and employed all their servants and guards appropriately. Keeping me out of the planning was sheer, unadulterated pettiness. I spent most of the rest of that first day sulking, ashamed as I was to admit it. They were unjust. I was petulant.

By the next morning, though, I was tired of hopeless moping, and the reports from the countryside, carried by Flybones and relayed by scrying, were increasingly frightening. Local healers keeling over, whole families being stricken at once, and already talk of localized edicts forbidding funeral rites in favor of mass graves. At least Mother let me read those.

Too many cups of coffee and an hour spent staring out a window brought me to a semblance of a plan. Not to save Shin Makoku, not even to save the city. Thanks for my power-mad adversaries, that was denied me. But to protect who I could. Over lunch I located both Dakaskos and the redheaded maid (Lazana, her name turned out to be) I'd rescued from young Lord Rochefort and gave each of them half my list of names and a message to repeat. I didn't know who'd answer my summons. I made sure to include my full title. Maybe some would come for Cecilie's son, some for Florian's, some only for Lord Von Voltaire, and maybe, just a few, for Gwendal. I'd need them all.

I hadn't had high hopes, but when I walked into the room I'd chosen for my appointment, it was full. It didn't look like anyone had refused. I'd chosen a large parlor and there still wasn't room for everyone to sit. I'd expected Gunter, and how could I have been surprised by my _dear_ fiancé? Adelbert Von Grantz was chatting with Gavril. Delicate as a little posy, but oddly intense, Suzanna Julia was perched on one arm of Griesela Geigenhuber's chair. Anissina was cross-legged in the middle of the table, knitting away at some sort of pointy hat, while Von Gyllenhaal was uncomfortably crammed onto a tiny window seat beside one of a half dozen knights whose names I couldn't match to faces.

Fortunately, public speaking was one thing that _didn't_ intimidate me. "I'm glad to see so many responding to my request."

"You've intrigued us, Von Voltaire." Adelbert saluted me with a mug of tea. It seemed Lazana had arranged for refreshments as well. I reminded myself to thank her. Should have thought of it myself.

"That was my intention." If not swayed by the good of their countrymen, then maybe curiosity would do it, after all. "Well, I don't doubt everyone in the room knows the situation. Shin Makoku's currently being overrun by plague. It'll no doubt hit the capital as it's hitting everywhere else. The Maou, with help from her husband and brother, has been securing the countryside as well as possible." I hoped. Everyone hoped. "And of course travel's ill-advised at such a time. For better or for worse, court has become a trap."

"Gwendal, must you be so overdramatic?" Dirk had claimed the best chair in the room and had his feet up on the Ottoman so no one could sit there. Of course. I resisted the urge to throw a biscuit at him.

"If the time comes, Dirk, when I _am_ overdramatic, I'll be sure to let you know." In this crowd, I could glare him down. He looked almost meek. "What I'm proposing is that those of use least likely to be stricken, and most likely to survive if we are, form a task force for the good of the city. I'll be sending messengers outside the castle walls to attempt to organize the young and healthy Mazoku. And humans as well, if they volunteer." I made sure to emphasize every word of that sentence. Neither excluding them nor pressing them into service was going to be tolerated. And human immune systems tended to be a bit weaker, or so I'd read.

"To do what, Gwen?" Anissina chimed in. Whenever I made plans she tended to poke holes in them until airtight. In retrospect, I should have spoken to her before, so as not to go through the routine in public. Damn. At least this one I could answer.

"The majority of us have at least the raw ability to heal and the strength to back it, so we can assist the professionals. In addition, we can tend to the afflicted, organize sick bays, and move victims around efficiently. And unless anyone has a better idea, I'll be splitting the rest of the city into quadrants, so four of us will be heading up the volunteers in those four areas and reporting to me. The rest should be sufficient for the castle inhabitants and staff."

"I'll head one." Gavril raised a hand. "Happy to. Good idea, Gwendal."

"Thank you. Now, before anyone else assigns themselves, keep in mind you'll be putting yourself at considerable risk. We're all strong enough to fight this off, theoretically, but you'll be exposing yourself to the plague. Constantly. Anyone who wants to avoid that may leave and we'll not think the less of you." I felt obligated to tack that on at the end.

Fortunately, no one left. Two knights, a girl from Bielefeld territory and one of the castle's own, took a quadrant to head, as did Von Gyllenhaal. The others were already planning out what steps to take. I just had a few special assignments to make.

"Lady Wincott?" I wasn't sure if there was protocol for addressing someone blind, since obviously a bow would be invisible. I did it anyway, for good measure. This was a delicate situation. She hadn't actually been on my list of invites. Perhaps she'd been told by a friend. "I'm not sure what you were thinking of adding to—"

"Oh, don't worry, Lord Von Christ." She smiled charmingly. "I'm actually trained as a healer. Letting my father know I'll be assisting a powerful lord's endeavor to save the city will be very helpful in convincing him not to fret when I join in in the infirmiry."

"Normally I'd shrink from confronting your father on such a matter, but considering our need, it's an honor to have you." I smiled. A brave young woman. "I'm simply somewhat worried for your health." How was I supposed to say she was probably too young to risk exposing herself?

"I may have some growing left to do, but I'll take all the risk myself, thank you very much, Lord Von Voltaire." Another innocent smile. What a little she-wolf this one was. I conceded defeat. Well, that was something of a load off my shoulders…

The door opened behind me. I turned to find Conrart and some of his his cohort. That redheaded girl, the Bielefeld twins, Josak (when on earth had he gotten here?), and Wolfram and Giesela hanging back a bit. "Gwendal? Is the meeting over?"

This was going to get ugly. "What did you hear?"

"That you're getting everyone young and strong enough to help together. And all of us are helping."

"No. You are not." Once more I cursed the legal adulthood of age sixteen. Conrart was a child, physically if not mentally, with his partially human mind and upbringing. "Every one of you is highly at risk." I knew he'd kick and scream the whole way. If he couldn't be the hero, Conrart just wasn't happy. "If you try and insinuate yourself, I'll have Mother lock you in your bedroom, and you should know better than to lead your friends into danger."

"They know what they're doing. I know what I'm doing. We're helping!"

"Yes, Gwen, can we please?" I didn't know which twin was speaking. There were subtle differences, but it was too much work to remember which of them it was that had the pointier nose or the slight widow's peak.

"No, Mael or Maddox, you may not." Brat and slightly less of a brat brat. They were probably only here because they didn't want Conrart to upstage them. And my stepbrother's use of the nickname didn't soften me.

"Gwen!" Wolfram, I supposed, _was_ allowed to call me that, but I wished he wouldn't in public. He grabbed onto my hand. "Come on, Gwen. I'm so good at magic, and so is Giesela. We'd save a whole bunch of people!" I glanced over and was glad to see Gunter already talking his daughter down. Good, one less for me to deal with.

"Wolfram…" I picked him up. "This illness attacks little kids first. You'll be in a lot of danger even if you stay out of the way. If you get sick, Mother will cry."

"But I never get sick!"

"Wolf, you're such a little liar." He had a cold half the time. "The best thing for you and Giesela to do is stay out of the way as much as possible. This really is for grown-ups to deal with."

"I'm not that little!"

"End of discussion, Wolfram." I put him down. Conrart was still glaring, and his young lady (Emily?) as well. "As it is for you. Hello, Josak."

"Hi, Gwendal." He waved. A sweet kid, tiny and skinny, easily spooked. "Chose a bad time to come and visit, huh?"

"Yes. But we'll look after you." I'd never like Conrart's father. Lord Weller, even in memory, rankled. But I'd learned an odd affection for his town's worth of followers, all the human husbands and wives and their half-and-half children. I tried to look after them, feeling being there for Weller's death and witnessing it all was essentially a promise. "And I suppose you want to help, too?"

"Well, I'll help Conrart."

"Here's your job. Hold him back if he decides to go gallivanting off on a rescue attempt that'll get him the Plague."

I stood and turned. Oh, by no means was it the end of the argument, but I'd finish it later. "I think, for the time being, we've discussed all we need to. Once the plague hits we'll be busy again. Quadrant captains, please come with me to dispatch messengers as needed."

The rest of the day was bureaucratically busy. I had my force assembled, and now I needed to learn, quickly, how to coordinate effectively. It was enough like leading troops that I wasn't entirely lost, but coordinating dozens of disjointed, youthful Mazoku from all walks of life provided plenty of its own challenges.

Gavril carried the first victim to the castle. I'd already spoken to the healers, though not my uncle and Evert, and they'd agreed that the first few should definitely be brought to the castle where the best healers and facilities were. Gavril kept the little girl stable and they managed to cure her within the hour.

But by the end of that hour there were two more, and one was already hallucinating by the time one of Anissina's maids got him into the infirmary. The infection count for that day was seventeen, the last of them Wolfram.

Doing them some measure of credit, it was Mael and Maddox who brought him to my attention. He'd, of course, been defiantly sneaking around (without Giesela—Gunter seemed to have properly put the fear of God in her). Naively expecting him to stay put in his bedroom was all our mistake. I'd been too busy to worry about it, and so, I suppose, had Mother. Who'd ever expect Evert to bother looking after the boy?

I carried him to Mother's room instead of the crowded infirmary. Preferential treatment by all means, but I couldn't help the partiality. He was already feverish and he would have been scared. After I brought a healer to see him, I sat with him most of an hour, feeling terribly irresponsible. Personal feelings again. But at this point the healers were already feeling spent. A complete healing wasn't possible. They'd be back tomorrow. I told him all of that, babbled a few poorly-remembered fairy tales… I even tried to sing, something I probably shouldn't have inflicted on someone healthy.

I only left when Mother came up to relieve me. To no one's surprise, by morning she was sick, too. And I lost the first of my special agents.

One would expect a solid young man like Dirk would be healthy as a horse, but when I sent Anissina to find him after lunch, he was discovered coughing his lungs out and looking very gray about the gills. I couldn't say I was sorry with a straight face.

The days blended together after that. Every room of any size was converted to a sick bay. Recovery was slow, healers were strained to the breaking point, and we lost more every day. Julia almost killed herself insisting on continuing to tend to the sick until she fainted. Anissina I found feverishly pulling apart a gas lamp babbling about an anti-plague engine she was going to make out of moth balls and a bassoon, and I had to fight her all the way to the infirmary. On the way back from depositing my dearest, if most infuriating, friend in her sick bed, I almost walked straight into a gray-faced Raven carrying an unconscious Conrart.

And the chaos in the city. Three quarters of the garrison was ill. People were scared. There were riots. Deaths went unreported, no doubt spreading disease further. My task force shrunk from desertion as well as illness, and I couldn't blame them. Gavril eventually returned to the castle, as all his city help had deserted him, and by then we needed the extra hands.

What kept me sane through it all was Gunter. He usually assisted the professional healers, not as qualified as they but in many cases as talented. He kept so perfectly calm, directing those who were still healthy enough and dedicated enough to be assisting, picking up and covering for me when worry for my sick family, and worry in general, overpowered me for a bit. He made me sleep at least a few hours a night and eat at least two solid meals. An angel. And I was too frazzled and stressed even to really enjoy it.

It was the fifth, maybe the sixth day since the plague had hit, two in the morning. I'd just put little Lazana down—on an old blanket on the floor of the banquet hall. If it filled up we'd need to move into the still scorched ballroom. Wolfram was looking better, but Conrart had yet to wake up, and Mother was babbling about unseen creatures, eyes wide open. It seemed every one of them was especially susceptible.

"I may be at the end of my rope." Gunter had shoved me into bed, and I didn't have the energy to get up again.

He put a mug of sweet-smelling chamomile in my hands. "You've held up wonderfully. I'm sure they'll all look better in the morning."

"Possibly. But a few hundred more will look worse."

"Take your comfort where you can, Gwendal." He patted my shoulder, nose above his mug. It was hot in the room, but the steam smelled soft and comforting. "Your efforts have been nothing short of heroic. You're exhausted. No one will blame you for enjoying your family recovering, even if you haven't saved everyone else yet."

"Small comfort. Gunter…" I bit my lip. I'd been about to say something quite foolish. "You've done more good than I have."

"We've both done what we do best. And my daughter's managed to stay healthy." He turned away and let out a tiny cough.

Enough to get me up in arms. "Gunter?"

"It's nothing. Clearing my throat." He smiled, but weakly. As I opened my mouth to contradict him, his eyes went oddly blank and the cup of tea fell from his hands. It fell agonizingly slowly as Gunter's eyes slid shut and he slumped against me.


	7. The Sword of Damocles

**The Usual, Apologetic Author's Note:**_ So there was supposed to be a Christmas update. Really. I was all set to start writing in earnest right after finals. Writing everything, fanfiction, original stuff, material for the role-playing games I'm variously embroiled in. Right as soon as I got done with the most hideous finals week I'd ever stared down the barrel of. And then I got hit by a car. No. Completely serious. I actually got off remarkably intact, as small woman getting slammed with multiple tons of metal goes. Fortunately, my winter coat kept me from getting sliced to pieces by broken windshield bits and my elite ninja assassin skills got me up on the hood instead of plowed right over, but even the lesser evil is unwanted. To cut short further whining, my collarbone was broken. It took me close to a month to be able to type with both hands again, and it involved a setup with pillows and textbooks to get my elbow and laptop at the same height. So yes, late update, as usual. Good excuse, as is less usual. Frankly, knowing me, aren't you glad you're getting a chapter at all?_

_A very odd chapter, I warn you. _

I caught him. I held him for a split second, arms tightly around him, burying my nose in his hair, ignoring tears that escaped unbidden. Before I could consciously catch up with what had happened, I was reacting. Like a good soldier. I stood and swept him with me and was out the door and in the hallway, half running toward the nearest infirmary and I hadn't even processed more than _Gunter needs my help._

By the time I reached the stairs I was at least thinking lucidly. He hadn't shown the usual symptoms. His complexion was a little paler than usual, but he'd always erred on the side of bone white, my Gunter. He hadn't gone the horrid, ashen gray that was a universal signal. He'd also barely been coughing. I couldn't puzzle it out, couldn't focus… The healers would be able to. They had to be.

When I entered the sickbay, one of the stations improvised under my direction from a large parlor. There were a few cots, two desks and a coffee table converted, and a half dozen patients made as comfortable as possible on the floor. The only one awake was Julia von Wincott.

"Who's there?" She looked tired, but alert. There was some reason I didn't expect to see her there, but I'd forgotten it.

"Gwendal." Hard to recall formalities at a time like this. "I have another patient for you. Er, Gunter. And it seems complicated." I was talking too fast. On the edge of panic. My mother, my brothers, and now my dearest love, and he mysteriously stricken on top of it all. How much could a man take?

"Put him here." I noticed, faintly, that she navigated the room with perfect ease. A very uncanny girl. I realized I was lazily following her with my eyes and snapped back to attention, carrying Gunter to a makeshift bedroll.

"You mentioned complications?"

She was too tired. That was why she shouldn't be waiting up in the middle of the night. Alone. Barely more than a child and sickly to boot in a room full of dangerously ill patients. Oh, well. "He fainted after one cough. He doesn't _look_ like he has…" I trailed off. Now that I was looking, there was a faint ashen edge to his face. Had it been there all along? I'd missed it, hadn't I?

"Oh. Well, he's quite the amateur doctor, isn't he?" She yawned a bit. "He's probably been sick for days. Someone who knows the body's energies as well as a practiced healer has more control than most over their own."

I reached over to push the hair out of his face. There was a thin sheen of sweat under my fingers. "So he can avoid being sick?"

"Not at all, unfortunately." She sighed and her hand drifted from his head to his chest, about an inch above his body. "He was holding it back, but… picture floodwaters. A dam can sometimes restrain them a good long time, but nothing holds forever. And water doesn't slowly ooze out of a dam once it's overpowered. Everything hits at once, and what would have been a slow river becomes a raging tide."

Ah. Metaphor. It made sense… Wait, why was she babbling about rivers when Gunter was in such danger, then? If I'd interpreted right, and as difficult as it was to think right then, he was going to be much worse than if he'd just let himself be ill to begin with. "Can you help him?"

"I can try." She sighed. "I'm… good at this. And he's stronger than he looks, I think. From what I've heard. Still, it's dangerous. Anyone trained as a healer knows not to attempt this kind of thing except very short term."

"I'm sure he knew perfectly well." I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket—not my precious little gift, but an everyday little square of linen. The girl was blind and I was in no state to really think logically. Wolfram, Conrart, and Mother lay in similar straits. I needed a fleeting moment to lose myself in him. I wiped the sweat from his brow and kissed his forehead, just lightly.

"Hmm, likely. I wouldn't do that. It's a sweet gesture, but you've been exposed plenty without just asking for it." Her hand was resting on his chest and she was gazing off into space, eyes unfocused. There was absolutely no way she could know. I quailed anyway.

"If you can spare a moment… Please let me know how he's doing." I was fraying at the edges. I felt ill myself, though I wouldn't admit it any more than Gunter even if I couldn't restrain the symptoms. I was on the brink of losing everyone I loved, the kingdom was falling apart, and in all likelihood there were a half dozen human countries poised to take action against us the moment catching the plague was no longer a danger. This crisis was bigger than me.

Funny, I'd thought I'd hit my breaking point a dozen times, but this seemed to really be it. I turned away from the blind girl who somehow saw, away from Gunter's senseless form, and shook. I wasn't even crying. I felt too hot to cry. Dry, blistering heat that might have been the still oppressive weather or a fever of my own. Julia let me alone for a few minutes. I needed to sob, get in a fight, get very drunk… But after the moment of hopelessness passed, though still horribly distraught and not myself, I knew that none of that would help.

And that I wouldn't be good for anything in the next few hours anyway.

Gunter had been carefully making sure that I slept. By turns cajoling, demanding, debating, and sometimes pure trickery (the man had proved before he wasn't above drugging me), he'd made sure I at least spent a few hours lying down. I didn't really feel I benefitted. My mind was always spinning too fast with worries and planning to settle into anything but a doze.

Well, unconscious he couldn't make me waste that time asleep, though the few remaining to fight the plague alongside me would scold a bit. So I wouldn't let them see me up and about. There seemed to me one halfway useful thing I could do.

I took my leave of the silent, all too knowing Julia with a tangled lie about going to get some much needed rest. It felt beneath me to sneak out of the castle and across the yard like a thief, but what other options did I have? I made it to the stable and picked out the only one of the castle's horses that was awake. It seemed I'd be asking for enough trouble riding a strange horse without it being put out for an unexpected jolt from sleep.

All roads in and out of the city were closed, on my orders, but for one. I'd considered the matter and determined that in times of such crisis, people needed spiritual help more than ever. The temple was garrisoned by young, healthy, and magically gifted soldier-priestesses, and those of the high priestess's clan didn't live so long merely because they didn't age. The whole of the temple was steeped in magic and powers older and deeper still. Not a single case of the plague had been reported, and supplicants were lining up halfway down the road back to Covenant castle during daylight hours.

Even after midnight, I wasn't alone as I rode up to the sparkling stained glass and ebony door where male petitioners could leave their names and prayers with the priestess on duty. Women could go inside a ways, though I understood they weren't admitted to the inner sanctum without reason.

The night stood out in shocking, insane relief. The moon, on its way to full, looked misshapen as it hung in the sky, illuminating every blade of grass and pebble, sharper than life. There was no hint of wind anywhere, and the air carried both the usual scents of the forest and hints of the country's misery hidden woven in with the clean, woody smell. Acrid smoke from the burned possessions of the ill, waste and rotten food. The voices of the young man in front of me and the priestess he spoke to hung unnaturally in the stifling air, not penetrating the silence, but floating atop it. I stumbled a bit as I dismounted, falling against the wall. The cool limestone felt lovely against my cheek for just a moment before I realized I'd scraped my jaw and it was bleeding a bit. Hopefully I'd be able to pass that off as a shaving cut.

Not that I really had to shave.

The boy finished his plea and turned to go. He smiled shyly at me as he passed. Not recognizing me. Which was just what I wanted. Who would spot the fineness of my clothes when they were so rumpled and sweated through, after all?

The priestess at the door I faintly recognized. As tall as I was with deep indigo hair braided down to her knees, she was a memorable woman. She'd met me when I first took my title those distant years ago, let me into the courtyard for a few scant minutes to offer my lands, life, and legacy to the service of king, country, and our Shinou.

To my surprise, she remembered me, too. Did I really recall my gawky, adolescent self o clearly? No matter. She bowed. Slightly. Being one of Shinou's priestesses put her on social par with just about everyone but Ulrike herself and the maou. "Lord Gwendal von Voltaire."

I searched my memory desperately for her name. Something botanical that wasn't a flower. It had to be there somewhere. My silence dragged on, the slight sound I'd made hoping that opening my mouth would bring on the memory sinking into the mire of quiet that was this horrid, surreal night.

"Hyssop," she said tolerantly.

Though I intended to apologize, it didn't happen. I was silent, unsure how to phrase anything, still a little unsteady, increasingly afraid. Could my prayer to Shinou be of any help at all? The whole of Shin Makoku was undoubtedly sending torrents of pleas to our deified founder. It couldn't hurt, and I couldn't work in the state I was in.

"I've come to add my voice to those pleading with Shinou for any protection he can grant my family and friends as well as every one of us," I said. My voice was hollow. My brothers could be taking a turn for the worse, my mother slipping further into feverish nightmares, Gunter could very well be dying back at the castle this minute. Why had I come?

"Hmm." She looked over my shoulder. The path wasn't abandoned, but the two travelers on their way up the path were women. "You, I heard, were recovering from injury during the presentation of our twenty-fifth maou, yes?"

Shouldn't she just be taking my name and nodding politely at my rather predictable prayer? "Yes."

"Then you missed the presentation of the rest of your family at the altar. Perhaps you should make up for that now."

Pity. I was sure she was taking pity on me. I must look such a mess, hardly worthy of such a favor. I nearly refused, half of me wanting to ride hard back to the castle, to sit beside Gunter or have Wolfram cuddle up on my lap. But a chance to see the inner sanctum itself? Especially when I had no real claim to the privilege. I nodded.

She opened the men's door all the way. Another priestess took over the post. Inside the walls, the air was no less hot, weighty, and threatening, but the oppressive silence was broken by the fall of water in a handsome fountain and the footsteps and conversation of a half dozen young women moving to and fro, the business of the temple apparently never done despite the late hour.

And something aside from that. I felt a presence here, a tangible sense of power that welcomed and enfolded me. I'd been to shrines and memorials in my life and never felt anything but mundane, quiet piety. Here was the real thing. I felt comforted. Protected. And definitely watched, not just by the eyes of curious maidens, either.

The main hall of the temple was a glory to behold. The moonlight was bright enough to sparkle through stained glass and water, but its silver light was cold and gentle. There were ordinary windows as well, allowing glimpses of a starry sky that seemed less threatening. I walked beside Hyssop in a sort of trance. For the first time since the bells had sounded I felt myself relax some and folded my hands to make my pleas.

"Hmm?" There was a tiny sound beside me. I looked down to see a small, smiling child I knew must be Ulrike, the high priestess, the one who spoke to Shinou directly.

Hyssop introduced me. Something passed between the two and Ulrike nodded, smiling up at me cheerfully. "So you're the oldest brother. I'm glad to finally meet you."

"I hope I didn't disturb you."

"Don't worry. I don't sleep very much." She smiled and walked past the torches, past the shimmering spectacles of starlight and moonlit colors, and I followed after a moment's pause.

She said something that sounded rather canned about the voice and will of Shinou, but I couldn't attend. As I looked at the faint glow where I not only knew but could feel, deep in my core, Shinou resided, I felt a sharp, sudden pain in my left eye. No twinge but a deep, twisting stab, as real as if a knife had done it. I stumbled again, forward, covering my eye. Not that there was any reason having my fingers there would help, but I was seeing stars and some instinct had me cover it. The pain faded but did not disappear, a slow, throbbing ache and I moved my hand away, about to turn and apologize for my inattention to Ulrike.

The moment my fingers moved away, though, I was thoroughly distracted again. My right eye looked out on the pretty, peaceful room, the two priestesses glancing at me with concern. My left saw a completely different scene—a different world, it felt like. A dark, cold, rustic room with a mangy stag's head mounted on the wall. My father's study? But even as I resolved the place's identity it shifted imperceptibly, becoming somehow alien, lit by flickering field lanterns instead of candle sconces, as though the familiar, comforting sanctuary I'd known as a very young child were superimposed on another room entirely, the two vying for space.

My mind attempted to process the information from both eyes as one, and the effect of perhaps three places all atop one another made me so dizzy I fell, my knees hitting the carpeted floor with a dull thud and a jolt of pain.

_Strange mind, strange heart. So innocent, yet so old. _I wasn't exactly hearing words. Fleeting images and feelings echoed in my head, as though someone else's thoughts had bled in, ebbing on the same impossible tide that had spun half my vision into another time and place.

I didn't seem to have any options but to see what happened next. In all my reading I'd never heard of anything at all like this encounter, so I'd have to blaze the trail alone. And what harm could befall me thusly before Shinou?

To distract myself from the persistent pain in my eye I tried to focus on the room it saw. It wasn't just a picture to admire. I smelled old wood, tobacco smoke, and the wet, enlivening hint of a winter storm about to hit. There was a fire crackling in the hearth. The big, cozy armchair where a very small Gwendal indeed had loved to curl up was draped in a loosely knitted gray blanket that had fallen apart when I was twenty after many decades' service as a cave, tent, bedroll, and cape. The door was slightly ajar. For just a moment I lost myself, warm and sleepy, waiting for Father's momentary return.

I had only just snapped out of the strangely vivid memory when the ghost of the second room made itself known. Makeshift military headquarters from floor to ceiling, decrepit and cold, an appropriated storage shed lit by harsh, smoky lanterns, strewn with weapons, maps, and heavy cloaks, smelling of cheap wine and desperation. Not a strange place to me at all, though familiar to just the opposite side of me. I'd never seen this particular outpost, I was sure, but I'd known its like. I felt as at home here as in that little sitting room in the family manor.

_A brave soul. A kind one. But rimed in ice. All alone. _The voice grew stronger, the words coherent, though still falling straight into my head. _I know you now, Voltaire. A predictable clan. No fault there. Always men after my own heart. _

I knew who the voice belonged to now, though that shed no light on my painful eye and its visions.

"Lord Shinou, first and greatest, I have come to beg your protection for us all, to plead especially for the lives of my brothers, my mother, my… friend." Proper language, humble bearing, quiet voice. I couldn't have spoken loudly if I wanted, shaken to the core, but I certainly looked the perfect supplicant.

_Ah, such words. I hear them often, and I needn't look into a heart to know such noble words are nearly always lies._ There seemed to be an odd chuckle, not quite the warm but courtly sentiment one would expect from Shinou. _But here is sincerity. An honest wish from a foolish boy, protection for your love and your own, not a thing for yourself. An old head on young shoulders, a child's heart in a man's soul, and always as cold and solitary as your mountains._

Shinou knew how to hit home, didn't he? He _was_ describing Father as well, and my very dimly recalled grandsire. I felt very small, the last in a line that our founder seemed to know beginning to end, soul laid bare to a disembodied voice in a temple.

I was silent and he went on. _Will you chose the paths that those before you have so often? Will you live your life bent over with the burdens of all? Will a warm heart hide behind cold eyes, armor and prison in one? Sacrificing all for the greater good? And will you lead a life unimpeachable and forlorn, conscience intact as you breathe your last, unfrozen and accomplished to the end?_

"Yes," I said, without hesitation, forgetting what a confusing spectacle this likely was to Hyssop and Ulrike. Was there any question, after all? He'd just written out my fate for me. And could I complain? It sounded like just the life I should have. Frozen and secluded, yes, but safe. Useful. A boon to Shin Makoku, to Voltaire, to Conrart and Wolfram. Maybe even to Gunter. Yes. I even smiled a little.

I felt another laugh, somewhere between my subconscious mind and my bones. _To anyone else I'd have spoken a curse. Voltaire my be hewn from stone, but what a precious one. You epitomize your clan, boy. _How archaic. Clan. It suited the air of mystery and ancient grandeur. _Perhaps the best of them. Go back to them. With my blessing and a gift._

Who could say what that meant. Hopefully, his gift was the recovery of my loved ones, though that seemed unlikely. A blessing was, to be sure, an intangible thing. I was grateful, but an air of blessedness failed to settle over my shoulders like a mantle. My eye stopped hurting, and as I realized my left cheek was soaked with uncontrolled, irritating tears I felt that to be boon enough as I stood.

My eyes wandered up to one of the clear windows near the ceiling, taking in the stars for a moment before I had to look back at the priestesses and tell them I'd been speaking to Shinou. There was a sudden, blinding flash of what could only be heat lightening. I twisted away, eyes already sore and watery enough.

The moment I closed them, I was seeing visions again. Too good to be true, they still _felt_ genuine. I saw Wolfram, grown and strong with brave, flashing eyes. An adult Conrart smiling, assured, with the bluster and the edge of fear and loneliness gone from his face. Mother grinning as she directed a dozen suitors to her whims. A Covenant Castle once more bustling with everyday concerns under a forgiving autumn sun. And Gunter, gazing out a window, smiling dreamily, safe and well.

Was Shinou's gift a prophecy or merely a comfort? How was I to know? I tucked it away in that icy heart of mine anyway and turned to Ulrike.

"You spoke to him," she said, blinking a little dazedly. She reminded me of a sleepy kitten. It was hard to remember you were looking at a wise, powerful elder, not an adorable child. "It's not the first time the favor has been granted… But I've never heard of it falling to a man before!"

Should I apologize? "I feel the compliment," I finally said, weakly, after waiting too long. I took my leave still in a bit of a daze. I'd spoken to Shinou, had my fundamental self stripped bare, been given… _something_.

Hope.

Quite an evening's excursion. I'd been away much longer than I'd intended to, so after as polite a goodbye as I could handle I rode back to the castle. The sky was lightening already, the unforgiving summer dawn coming too fast on the heels of midnight.

As I'd expected, a little searching the moment I got back found me a patient to carry, poor little Josak, looking rather embarrassed to have come down ill. The day's work was beginning again, and I convinced myself I didn't feel any the worse for getting no rest. I assisted a healer until dawn, seeing the arrival of my cousin Hube and two guards in that short shift. The plague was reaching a crescendo, a fever pitch that in spite of any assurances from a higher power I was terrified of.

I decided to snatch myself ten minutes and took my breakfast of a sticky bun and coffee up to Mother's room. Conrart was fast asleep and so was she, and neither of them looked entirely natural, pale and sweating, she muttering and he much too still for a boy who tossed and turned so much he was often knotted up in his covers by morning. Wolfram was sitting on the end of the bed and crying.

When a broken off crumb of bun failed to produce any results (you could usually trust Wolfram's sweet tooth) I sat down and pulled him into my lap. "Are you feeling better?"

"N-no. My head hurts and I can't start any fires and my chest hurts and my nose is all plugged up." I decided not to ask why he'd wanted to start fires. "When will Mama and Conrart be awake?"

"Soon." I hugged him. "Soon it will be over. Like a bad dream. You'll be able to play again."

"Breathing hurts."

"Be brave, Wolf."

"I had a dream about spaghetti."

"…You still have a fever, don't you, Wolfram?"

"It played drums."

"Yes. You do." I carried him back up to the pillows and tucked him in. He didn't resist. "Back to sleep. The healers will be by to bring you water and check on you."

"I want juice."

"…I'll tell them." Brat. I kissed his forehead. If he'd been properly sensible I'd have foregone the little mark of affection—he was just the age to begin hating it, but he needed it. "I need to go, now. Get back to looking after all the others here who are look after Mother and Conrart."

"Okay. I will. I'm big." He was practically speaking baby talk. I tucked him in and sighed, leaving once more. The surge of hope and trust in the right outcome from the night before was beginning to ebb away.

No alarms were being raised about new victims. I was having trouble bringing details to mind… How long had the last epidemic lasted? It had swept across the land faster than the wind could follow. That much I was sure of. Or maybe it just sounded morbid and a bit dreamlike that way, and as such fit into the dark confusion that was all my head could hold.

I returned to the small sick bay where I'd left Julia the night before. She was still there, but asleep on a big armchair beside a teacup. The room managed to smell of chamomile and summer breeze instead of sickness, somehow. Very odd girl. The healer now on duty was a young man with dark hair and sharp eyes. Another double black. They seemed to be common lately, didn't they? But of course some of us just weren't worth the favor.

Was a blessing like a favor? Did a directly granted boon from Shinou count for more or less than being born under the lucky stars of a double black? Why be taunted with dark hair—half was worse than none, especially when any fool could see how Gunter admired the true sable-eyed and raven-haired lucky ones.

I realized I'd stalled in the doorway and shook my head. Hard. That hurt a little; I was congested to start with. At least that dragged me back to reality. My wandering daydreams would be the deaths of patients. I knew I'd caught it, but it wasn't as though I was among the untouched. At my age, with my health, I might be able to keep walking throughout. I couldn't recall whether that was supposed to be possible when blighted by this particular curse, but it worked with the flu. Once. Though _Mother_ would tell you I'd just had a cold while Conrart and his father had been properly ill.

Once again, I hadn't moved. I walked over to offer my services and the healer, after only a moment's hesitation, had me take over getting a swallow of water into those who remained unconscious, caught in their fever dreams. Some tossed and turned and let out tiny groans. Some were still and rigid. Some looked almost peaceful. I lingered as long as conscience would allow beside Gunter.

All his skin was too hot and his nest of sheets and a worn duvet were soaked with sweat. I sat on the floor beside him and, after a moment's hesitation, propped his head up on my thigh. I'd done it with two or three others lying on the floor and hadn't given it a moment's thought. Certainly there was no harm. It was easiest to trickle potentially life-saving water down his throat this way. What had been clinical, drab duty I could barely keep my fevered mind on became a wicked, enthralling indulgence.

I parted his lips with my thumb. They were parched, but still soft, somehow, still as velvety as the brush of a new leaf, smooth as pearl. He reacted a little, a slight sound, and twisted his head away to the side. I waited a moment and managed to tip his head back. I moistened his mouth a little with a soft cloth and let him drink. Slowly. He was never awake, though he seemed less deeply asleep. I stroked his hair and even whispered… something no doubt incoherent, but soothing. Oh, my Gunter. He looked so frail. I should take him to bed and watch over him properly.

Make sure to ease away whatever was making his eyes dart back and forth, visible through closed lids, soothe his twitching hands to stillness and quiet the little whimpering noises it broke my heart to hear. No one was watching. Julia still slept (and the mad girl knew whatever she wanted to know anyway, seer witch or perhaps not blind at all, wouldn't that be something?). The other healer, Kennard, was it? Occupied fully by a woman taken by a fit of terrible coughing.

I helped myself to another kiss. Not as though I could avoid getting ill at this point.

I couldn't help it being a proper kiss, not just a shy peck. He could be dead by next time I saw him, taking all the beauty in the world with him. As I pulled back, his eyes fluttered open. The shock of it and the icy horror of being caught pulled me back to near lucidity. I almost dropped him. When had he ended up in my arms, come to think?

But his amethyst eyes just slid closed again. He muttered something I couldn't make out. A name perhaps, not mine, and words I'd never heard with the tone of a question. Some ancient scholarly tongue he'd picked up, or just as easily inventions of a tortured mind locked inside hellish heat.

"Gunter. Lover." My voice was raspy and came unexpectedly. "I… I will take care of you. Don't worry." I could never say the right things, even when I was three-quarters delirious and hardly responsible for what might come out of my mouth. No response from Gunter, anyway. And I'd need to be this fever mad to say something like that. I lay him back down, wiped his forehead clean of sweat, and stood.

As I straightened the room went dark, and I had to grab a bookshelf to keep from falling. I felt cold and empty, though oddly there was cold sweat forming on my face, especially around my hair. Every time I opened my eyes the floor insisted on jerking back and forth, not a gentle roll that came with normal dizziness but what looked like an attempt to escape.

Finally I felt like I could stand again and looked over my shoulder. The healer had seen me.

"Looks like one more for sick bay," he said mildly.

"It's about full, here." I swallowed. I wasn't done yet. I hadn't checked recently, but there was very likely nothing left of my task force. Someone had to keep this up before healers started dropping from over extending themselves. "I'll go upstairs."

He wanted to stop me, I could tell, but a girl on one of the desks made into beds chose that moment to start gasping and I ducked away while he attended to her.

A corpse was carried past me as I stumbled to the nearest infirmary. A small one. It took me a long moment to recognize little miss Emily, Conrart's supposed girlfriend. Funny. Her redhead's complexion hadn't changed a bit from when last I'd seen her, but there was no mistaking the pallor of death.

She wasn't the first of the dead I'd seen, but the mess I was in, getting worse every second, couldn't take this blow. I turned and retched. It was lucky I hadn't eaten since… Gunter had made me. Sometime. When the dry heaves stopped and I'd steadied myself on the stair rail, I realized there was a strong hand on my shoulder.

"Hube…" At an ordinary time I'd never dream of addressing the cousin who so intimidated me, who stood on even more formality than I, by a familiar nickname I'd only heard from his mother, years ago. Now the walls between us were crumbled. Between everyone.

I stood with him for a bit, wordless. I had a funny urge to speak, to try and talk to the man I'd both feared and disdained, to connect to someone who wasn't dying or delirious, but there was nothing to say. Later, maybe, if I didn't find myself afraid of him once more. I continued upstairs, and he brought Emily down to wherever she'd rest.

An overworked, frazzled healing witch gave me a box of linens to carry, clearly not trusting me to attempt magical medicine however short-handed she was. I think I made it halfway across the room before my knees gave out from under me. Whacking my knees on the floor felt a bit like deja vu until I remembered the bruises from my collapse in the temple. So I wasn't seeing the future. Or seeing the past. It had always seemed to me that was more along the lines of what deja vu was.

I was vaguely aware of being carried into a bed unceremoniously. Whoever did it wasn't really strong enough to carry me and didn't care. Luckily I was too insensible to mind being hauled like a sack of potatoes. Long delayed coughing was escaping me now, harsh, stabbing coughs that contorted most of my body.

All at once. Now wasn't this familiar?

I forgot why. Being in bed felt nice, though this wasn't really much of a bed, more a couple of cushions stolen from a sofa. I head myself trying to talk to the healer, but every time a word managed to escape I'd start coughing and it didn't seem worth it.

Every second I felt warmer, emptier, and weaker, lost my grip on reality a little more. But one thought did somehow penetrate the fog before I slipped entirely into hallucinations. There was only one way I could have been hit so hard so quickly. Gunter had been shielding me as well as himself. I was absolutely sure of it.

And then I was gone. Wandering through twisted, misty epics, landscapes dark and strange. Delirium steeped in heat led me on up roads through memory into realms where I wasn't meant to be, stalked by formless terrors, filled with endless corridors. I spent what felt like days walking through the same house, always finding one more room. I was roasted alive for aspiring to a kingship of some sort. I directed an army of the flybone tribe over a fire blasted landscape. Once I watched bodies crawling with maggots that hatched into massive moths with wings like shining oil slicks. Hands on the ends of disembodied tentacles gripped my ankles and pulled me into a peaty mire. Shattered ice spoke to me as it broke. Wildly shifting nightmares kept me locked so deep inside myself not even coughing my lungs out could change anything.

_Can't catch a break, can you, Voltaire?_

That voice came and went a lot. And though I didn't feel myself choking and gasping and, I was told later, spitting up blood, I did occasionally feel a dull ache in my left eye.

The next thing I knew that didn't involve a skeletal horse carrying me toward my dead father in an underground warren of tunnels carved in volcanic glass, I was looking up at Anissina.

"I've… missed a bit, haven't I?" My voice came out as a grating croak and I winced. My throat was still raw.

"Mmm."

"Why is it always you?"

"Pure luck. The healers think that the smoke you breathed in during the fire probably made it worse. Oh, and running around for days while you were ill."

"How long?"

"I don't think I'll tell you until you're feeling better. I want to see your best infuriated face." The wench grinned. I hoped I looked pretty infuriated as it was.

I didn't remember the past two or three days except in snatches that made no sense. A trip to the temple, Gunter whispering his brother's name to me, a handsome double black healer, chamomile. "What is… That is to say, the state of…?"

"It's well under control here, and we're now able to spare healers to send to the other cities that need it. In a few more weeks the plague's going to be under control." She smiled. I'd never seen Anissina look so soft. Had she actually been concerned about me? Or was she just still recovering herself? I noticed she was wrapped in a flannel dressing gown. Probably some combination. Even so, I was a bit touched.

"Good. So we helped some…"

"Yes, Gwendal, you did good. Pest. You've gotten a lot of thank yous. Even some flowers. Those mostly from Wolfram. And a few young ladies you seem to have saved personally. And there seems to be some lilac."

"Not in season…" Maybe I wasn't quite back to normal just yet.

"Ah, true, but I've heard some lovely things about magically regulated botanic gardens in the von Christ Province." She handed me a sprig that smelled of sweetness and green and springtime. And Gunter. I couldn't have had a happier awakening. A token from Gunter, the knowledge that he must be fine, and an uncharacteristically sweet Anissina.

Was it too much to hope she'd done a bit of growing up, settling down while she was ill? I smiled at her for the first time in memory. "It's really going to be okay?"

"The kingdom will recover." She winced, and suddenly her air of gentle calmness could be seen for the eye of a hurricane it really was. "Just in time for your wedding."


	8. Royal Flush

"You really ought to see if the Rocheforts can provide for a horse. It's simply impractical to bring one of your own so far."

"I prefer not to ask them favors."

"So you're going to trot up on one of those shaggy mountain ponies from your stable? Do you even own any white horses?"

"Well, no, but there's a very even tempered gray mare I was given by one of the knights a few years ago."

"You are not getting married on a gray horse!"

I'd gone so ridiculously far as to be _pleased_ when Anissina offered to help me plan my half of the wedding. I knew the theory, of course, and I had a head for organization, but this was hardly a grand affair I could muster enthusiasm for. I'd known I'd need help, and I'd at first just been thankful Mother hadn't felt up to sinking her claws into my dreadful marriage. Now that we'd arrived at the Voltaire manor, The Eyrie, I seemed to have regained some measure of perspective. We'd been here three hours and she was already driving me mad.

On the way here I'd been spared much simply by sleeping through most of the trip. I was taking an exceptionally long time to recover from my bout with the plague, due to running around most of the capital while ill, the lingering effects of the fire, and probably having a deified general invade my thoughts. Now I had no more excuses. I had only a few weeks to arrange what I could before setting off for Rochefort lands.

Anissina braced both her fists on my desk and leaned down so we were eye to eye. She'd forgotten to pack for the cooler mountain weather and had thrown on one of my father's old uniform coats over her usual clothes. The effect was actually rather grand. I wouldn't say so, of course. "You will write to your despicable father-in-law to be and request the use of a white horse from his stables. Now."

I muttered my assent. At least I had little to prepare for the actual ceremony. Having been proposed to, even so ignobly, allowed me to settle for learning my part, bringing along a token dowry, and making sure I had attendants. The onus of the actual celebration was all on the Rocheforts. And might they choke on it!

Anissina straightened. "Now, I assume you're having your mother and Stoffel give you away?"

"Who else?"

"Oh, I don't know. Raven would do it." She sat on the edge of the desk. "We can trust Celi to make sure her brother's turned out properly for the occasion. Do you know where the Voltaire wedding robe is?"

"The attic somewhere. How should I know?" I was being sulky. I knew it, but I couldn't help it. How could I be energetically exacting about planning an affair that made me gag to think of it? "It hasn't been used since before I was born."

"That's usually the case. Send a servant to go and find it."

By way of servants, we were a little short-staffed. I'd never minded before. I usually used my home as a retreat. One didn't need domestics running back and forth everywhere. I had a feeling, though, that I'd want to spend a good deal more time here. The situation in the capital was painful. Evert had managed to avoid coming down ill and Stoffel had ridden his coattails, coughing all the way. They were more in power now than before, despite it being in part their foolishness that had loosed the plague. I'd need to go, of course, try and minimize the damage, but there'd be little temptation to linger. And I was determined to spend as little time as I could at the Rocheforts' home. Aside from trying to keep Shin Makoku from ruin and seeing Gunter and my brothers, I was likely to follow in my father's footsteps and become a hopeless recluse. I sighed and added _interview maids_ to the to-do list in front of me next to a sketchy picture of a cat.

"Have you thought about your dowry?"

"One thing at a time." I had a headache already. And no, I hadn't. I'd been particularly avoiding it. I should really get over these romantic notions, but the three gifts were supposed to have meaning and feeling behind them. By the end of this there'd be nothing left of my principles, but worse, I'd need to come up with some plausible story and repeat it with a straight face. I couldn't just pick out three valuable items to which I had no attachment and hand them over. Each had to have some arguable significance.

"Is that vase of your grandmother's that you hate still around?"

"The one with that gold and purple manticore? Yes. There's an idea." That would do for the first. The ancestral aspect would make it plausible.

"The silvered bridle General Dollenmayer gave you after you rescued his entire unit?"

"Useless thing's in a drawer in my wardrobe." I'd always been embarrassed about that. The rescue had been an accident. I'd misread my maps and sent my own troops out of their way. Hadn't slept in a week at the time. Still, it was counted among my better victories by most...

"Oh, funny story, by the way. Wolfram scorched the cover off of one of Evert's books while you were sleeping off the fire. Did I forget to tell you? He had it lavishly rebound in something ridiculous like electric eelskin. I've said a hundred times people should stop being so frivolous with scientifically valuable substances! But yes, eelskin and gold and such, and then he realized it was one of yours after all. Quite disgusted. He had it shipped up here. I believe it's your beloved copy of _The Prophesies of Von Hoffenlich_."

I groaned. "If I'd known Wolfram had set fire to it I'd have paid him. I've been trying to get rid of that idiotic book for years. I'd have thrown it out ages ago if it hadn't been a gift from Stoffel. ...Wait." Anissina grinned. "How do you do that?"

"Why, I expend a little extra effort from my superior woman's mind. Just to make sure a day never dawns that you awaken and know the empty, dead sensation of not owing me a favor." She leaned back against the wall, arms behind her head, smirking like a smug cat. "The legacy of your line, the prize of your days in battle, and a lavishly illuminated manuscript of what is to come. I wouldn't worry about Dirk ever realizing it's a nicely bound pile of wasted wood pulp. What sweeter set of gestures could you make?"

"Fine. I owe you."

"Indeed you do. Planning on including Conrart and Wolf?"

I hadn't thought about it. It would give me great satisfaction to include my half-human brother in the affair and rub it in the faces of all assembled, but I'd need to tread carefully and make sure Conrart also liked the idea. It was hard to predict with him. At times he was belligerent about his ancestry, at other times shy and self-conscious. And if I gave Conrart a part, Wolfram would also need to be included. Though the threat to marry him off was past, my own head in the noose instead, I didn't really want him anywhere near the Rocheforts. Better that he stay as far from this inevitable mess as possible. I'd go to far as to personally ask Evert to watch Wolfram for the days Mother would spend attending the wedding.

"I think it'd be better not to, all in all."

"Hmm, your mother will perhaps go so far as to vaguely apologize when she shows up with both of them in tow."

"Oh." Right. "I can plan to make them gift bearers." Not necessary for the ceremony, generally added for just such circumstances as having much younger family members who'd want to be part of the party. And at least I'd know where they were. And wolfram could serve one last time as my excuse for not socializing. Perhaps if I gave him a lot of candy right before to make sure he was in his brattiest, noisiest mood. "...Then I'd only have two." That'd be odd. I looked to Anissina. She'd been having ideas all along.

"Ask to borrow Giesela?" I glared. "I'll bet you anything your beloved will volunteer to turn up for moral support anyway."

"I wish he wouldn't." It would be one little extra taunt from the universe to have Gunter watching me as I entered my new husband's house. "I'll see about Josack." It'd help Conrart cope, and having the two of them would heighten the impact. "Or maybe borrow a twin." Who cared which.

"Your enthusiasm is underwhelming. We've got to do something to cheer you up. I've got just the thing!"

"Is it an experiment?"

"It _is_ an experiment!"

"Alright, let's." She blinked at me for a moment. That almost made up for it. Anything to avoid planning a cheerful party for handing over my family's pound of flesh. It was almost relaxing to spend the next two hours with my hands in metallic gloves while Anissina tapped me for all I was worth in powering Mr. Indefatigable Kitchen Master. At the end of two hours the thing's arms entangled and started smoking. She put it out without starting much of a fire, and the cookies it had made were even somewhat edible. Odd recipe, though. I think it included lentils.

Annoyed with her machine, Anissina retired to work on her latest short story. Unreadable nonsense, of course, but it wasn't as though she'd asked my opinion. Without her to keep me on track, I decided to slip off to bed. I'd find the wedding robe and decide which child I'd use to hold the third gift of my dowry come morning.

I was surprised to find how relieved I was to be back in my own room. The window was open, letting the cool mountain air flow in, almost too chilly for comfort. The walls were covered in old blue paper, bubbling and peeling in a few places. Right then I wouldn't have fixed it for the world. Bed, lamp, desk, wardrobe, and bookshelf were mismatched, an assortment of woods and styles. That had never struck me before, but after time in the palace, where every room was perfectly coordinated, there was something homey and even rebellious about it. I hung my clothes up and pulled out a nightshirt that smelled faintly of dust from long interment. No servants would come in and tidy up when I left in the morning.

No one could claim the Eyrie was anything but a fine mansion. parts might be in disrepair, but that was laziness on the part of its owners, not a lack of funds but perhaps a real taste for ruined grandeur. During the summer, the climate was anything but harsh, really quite appealing and sweet. I was only a week's travel from the capital, and that a generous estimate. Really, my image of the place as a retreat far from the travails of court was silly. I still drank in the image, even as common sense denied it.

The bookshelf was small, just a few hand-picked favorites, some of them left from when I was younger than Conrart. I should probably see about moving into the master bedroom, but Father's death was decades back. If I hadn't moved yet, I likely wasn't going to. My chosen reading was a novel of a chivalrous knight during the reign of the Seventh Maou, Hildegarde Von Voltaire, a distant relative thanks to a few subsequent adoptions and shifts in the family line. I didn't regard the name with anything but mild interest. The lead character, Geoffry Kilburn, was of more interest, as he spent the better part of his time swinging a sword about and winning the hearts of maidens. The part of me that was still fourteen and found this epic to be the very height of literary achievement through history was still in there somewhere, and I fell asleep with a chapter about battling a giant crocodile open on my face to a colored illustration of the beast.

I was halfway through a really splendid dream about hurling spears at immense, dangerous beasts while Gunter looked on in admiration when Anissina lifted the book off my face and let sunlight hit unexpectedly. Should have closed my curtains. "Who let you in?" Perhaps the small child within should be kept asleep. I sounded as petulant as Wolfram.

"It's ten. I know you're still trying very hard to recover, but get your lazy butt out of bed or I'll hook you into Mr. Jilted Lover's Splendid Revenge for charging while you sleep."

"...What does Mr. Jilt- Don't tell me. Why would you...? Never mind. I'm getting up." I rolled out of bed and sighed. I really had slept late. "Why do I let you in my house?" I finally settled on as I pulled out clothes. There was no one here but Anissina and some old family retainers. I decided to let myself get away with a ratty coat with sleeves a few inches too short and slippers instead of shoes. I was tempted to just throw vanity out the window henceforth. Who was I going to look nice for? Dirk? "I'll get breakfast and then head to the attic to find the robe. Does that suit Her Grace?"

"It'll do. Mind if I take apart the broken dumbwaiter in your father's study?"

"Yes." I might actually use it someday. Father's study, besides, was an almost sacred place. Moreso now that it had been included in my confused, possibly hallucinated conversation with Shinou.

"What if I fix it afterward?"

"Is it going to talk, sing, grow arms, attempt to fly, or turn into a small pony after the fact?"

"...No."

"Fine." It would do something worse. I didn't have it in me to argue. I headed to the kitchen for a bite of toast and herb tea and then made my way up into the attic. It was a meandering place, not always connected, a collection of spaces too small to be the next floor up. The largest room was in the northwest corner of the house. I started there. I moved crates of hideously bad knitting projects off of broken furniture. An ottoman as old as I was collapsed under the weight of a set of outdated encyclopedias I balanced atop it, which scattered enough dust that I spent the next five minutes sneezing.

A dresser that looked partially rotted seemed to hold promise. Its larger drawers contained only evidence of mice and a single, exceedingly ugly earring. Out of curiosity, I opened the top drawer, though it was too small to hold the wedding robe. I found two pairs of very gray socks, a candle, the other earring, a snail shell, and a packet of envelopes. they were tied with a frayed, red ribbon, suggesting they weren't a commander's war missives. I knew better, but I sat on the dresser and opened the one on top. My father's handwriting was some of the worst I'd ever seen, as though a variety of small insects had been dipped in ink and forced to skitter over parchment. Hard to mistake.

_My Dear Cecilie,_

The shores of Cavalcade are as lovely as you are. I'm sure that, should peace break out, we will travel here together someday. I have enclosed several pressed flowers from the region. Much of their fragrance is lost, of course, but should you be able to catch the echos perhaps your perfumer will be able to come up with something. The fashion among ladies here is to enamel dried flowers onto combs. It would suit you beautifully. As would any adornment.

Negotiations with the prince remain tense. The Maou is beginning to despair of ever establishing more than a cease-fire, yet it seems to me the humans here yearn for peace as our people do. The city is in tatters. It frays at the edges. One must have an eye for detail, but the shops are less busy than they ought to be in fashionable quarters. There are few people on the streets. The children you see are subdued, no doubt every one worrying about a half-dozen family members in the army. Parties are held nightly for all delegations, an attempt to keep riots from breaking out, to drown resentment in champagne and burn away fear with glittering chandeliers. I can take no pleasure in balls and receptions without you here, but I appreciate the gesture.

I met a child in the streets today who seemed hungry. I gave her the sandwich I'd bought for lunch, and she showed me her quarter of the city. A different world indeed from what I'd been shown. With the glitter of royal posturing torn away, I could not have told the human city at a glance from ours. There seems no reason peace cannot prevail. I have heard the animosity of humans called envy for our long lives and power. Does it remain for us to envy in turn most of the world to walk and take in and sweet natured children not raised to be soldiers?

_You'll think me dull, writing to you of foreign lands, wartime tension, and what should be noble crusade and speaking of curly-haired urchins. Perhaps the little girl made me look to a future beyond the war. It must be hard to look forward to a wedding placed so esoterically at two months after your groom's return, and for that I apologize. But I continue to fix my eyes on that future, however uncertain. _

_There is a legend in this city, related—yes—by my diminutive guide to the city. Her name is Ananda, should my ramblings have piqued your curiosity, about eight years old as humans grow, black haired and dark eyed. This little token of luck counts for nothing here, though I couldn't help but find it striking. Her tale spoke of a grotesque fashioned by a human sorcerer in the distant past, a gargoyle to sit above his window. Through arts long lost he imbued it with the power to see and gave it but one objective, to watch over a child who played in the field outside his mansion, a little girl who was naught but anonymous waif. The child grew and so did the sorcerer, until, an old man, he passed from this world. He had done his work well, and the watcher watched on, eyes imbued with magic following the young woman as she made a life of her own with a farmer, bore several children, and grew old and ill herself. On the day before her death, with her children and grandchildren in attendance, their home was attacked by bandits, identified as demons (for Ananda did not recognize me for anything but a rich man willing to pass out lunches on a whim). Being excessively wicked, they dragged away the women and children, emptied the house of its few valuables, and planned to set it on fire with the men of the family within. When the house was set alight, a wind strong enough to knock over anyone standing in the open blew it out, and the sky went dark. When the moon's light returned, all the bandits were unconscious, and awoke only days later in jail, gibbering and mad. The old woman died with her family about her. When she was buried, her children gave her a fine marble headstone. On their second visit to the grave, they found a stone gargoyle perched on the marker as though it had been carved from the same block, watching over her still. Word has it that the human magician was the girl's father, unable to acknowledge her due to the adulterous affair that had begot her, which I find an unnecessary detail._

_I thought you would find the tale interesting, but further, such devotion is always yours, Celi, and were it within my power, such protection, too. I look forward to the day I will hold your hand rather than read it._

_With Love,_

_Florian_

I reread the letter three times. With difficulty at first, thanks to dust, poor penmanship, and being a bit choked up. I'd been told, and not believed for a minute, that my parents had been a love match. There was Mother's obviously exaggerated story of his defending her honor at a ball before they'd even been introduced (implausible), Stoffel's somewhat bemused assurance that they'd been rather fond of each other, but that hardly held more weight than Mother's tale. But if there was anything to believe, it was stilted, awkward, earnestness that I could recognize in my father's words. Not because I suddenly recalled some great virtue in him. The man would always be a veritable stranger to me. Because, rather, I could hear the same in myself. Though lacking his courage, it seemed I was doomed to only express such artless compliments and strange, almost argumentative declarations of love in my heart.

My feelings on the subject were mixed. On one level, it seemed Shinou's half-remembered curse and blessing might not necessarily hold true. A Voltaire heart had unfrozen long enough to love while still holding tight to duty. No question he'd died young and his life had been difficult, but Father had known something of that peaceful, devoted love that I did. Attributing that happiness to the cold, preoccupied parent I remembered sweetened the recollections a bit. And wasn't there a simple wholesomeness to knowing my parents had loved one another, that I'd been conceived out of passion and not duty?

Of course there was. So my ill feelings on the subject were entirely revolting. Resenting him for not sharing that love with me, for achieving his object while I'd be forever denied, for not ever trying to be a father as he'd tried to be a husband. Perhaps it just wasn't in his nature, but he could have made an effort. And of course there was jealousy. Never a need to sell Florian Vol Voltaire into marriage to keep Shin Makoku from splitting apart. Perhaps I'd have one day found the courage to speak, to win my own love, but it was a moot point now.

I tried to shake off the insidious nastiness and managed at least to suppress it. I pocketed the letters and resumed my search for the wedding robe. I was a bit preoccupied, but luck brought me to its resting place, a hope chest otherwise filled with wooden blocks underneath a wicker basket of dusty preserve jars with an ostentatious mirror balanced on top. It was a miracle I didn't break the mirror.

It came up to my shoulder propped on the floor. Though it wouldn't be me in the Voltaire robe, I draped it over my shoulders for a look at the effect. It wasn't too dusty, so the color was as bright as cloth so old could be. Dark green, trimmed and embroidered in midnight blue. Wedding robes were always shapeless, oversized garments so they could be draped over anyone's shoulders and hopefully stay that way long enough for appearance's sake. It didn't seem to me to need any repairs. This portion of my wedding preparations I could even get behind. Maybe there were more interesting things to be found in the attic. I knew I'd wasted as much as an hour already, but maybe Anissina wouldn't think to look for me until I'd uncovered a forgotten sword, a box of good books, charmingly out of date clothes, old maps… Attics could be full of all sorts of things.

I stepped out of the corner where I'd found the robe and heard a shrill voice calling my name. Damn her. I rolled my eyes. "Yes, coming." Wench. I threw the wedding robe over my shoulder and ducked back into the hall. It sounded like she was hollering from downstairs. I sighed, loudly and tragically to let any listening mice and spiders know I was being ill-used (if I couldn't act like a brat in my own house and at the expense of my veritable sister, when could I?), and trudged down.

Anissina was not alone. Distinctly not. Hundreds of curses upon the witch's head. Gunter.

Bitterly, I remembered asking myself that morning who I might be dressing for, why I'd ever want to look presentable again considering my audience. The coat might have been new and well-fitting when I'd first met him seemed suddenly pathetically scruffy rather than homey and comfortable. My leggings were faded, my slippers were unforgivably untidy and ancient to boot, knitted by Anissina when _she_ was first learning, never mind me. My hair was loose and hadn't been combed, and must be full of cobwebs. Every inch of me must have been. I was probably transport for a live spider or two. I felt myself blush unavoidably.

"I… wasn't informed we were expecting you," I said, faintly.

"He got here a bit earlier than expected." Anissina grinned and plucked a wolf spider off my shoulder. She immediately dropped it in a little specimen jar. No surprise she carried them on her at all times.

"I'd assumed the invitation I received was with your knowledge, though clearly…" Gunter shot a look at Anissina, who looked so unrepentant she nearly grew a halo. "I hope I'm not unwelcome?"

"No, of course not." Gruesome as I felt at the moment, much as his presence would rub salt in every wound, I was delighted to have him. Curses, I owed Anissina twice over in as many days. "I'm glad to see you." I smiled and extended a hand halfway before I realized how grimy my fingers must be. He took it anyway. I met his eyes, thinking of a dusty letter in spattered, fading ink, and ventured a more open smile than I usually allowed myself. Nothing to lose now.

"I thought you might need support. I've been home for about a week, but I came up the moment I had time. Giesela's staying with her natural father for a bit," he added, anticipating my question. "He doesn't see her often, but now that she's old enough to look after herself for the most part, it seems to me to be good for them both." He glanced around. My grandly austere retreat suddenly seemed very plain.

"Sounds like she'll enjoy it. The house is… a bit understaffed now. Let me take your things?" He hadn't come with much. It seemed like he'd ridden alone all the way, no carriage or retinue, just a horse and a bag. Gunter alone on the mountain roads with the wind in his hair, the smell of the sea and a gentle sun clinging to him still… Better snap out of it before I fell too deep in. I held out my hands.

"I can handle a cloak and a rucksack, Gwendal. Show me the guestroom?" He moved smoothly into not having anyone to wait on him. Commendable. Of course, I'd answer his every whim if he liked…

I blinked, embarrassed, and turned to Anissina. "Do you know which might be, er, habitable?" Half the guest rooms probably hadn't been dusted since Father had died. Before.

"The red one in the west wing and the little tiled one on the third floor. That'll be especially cool this time of year." She beamed angelically. I suspected her of cleaning it herself, or putting one of her creations to it, as the room was down the hall from mine and she delighted in evil. "I'll be testing Mr. Relieves the Last Need for Keeping Large Ungainly Men About the Place today, so why don't you let me get the bag. And you can show Gwendal what you mentioned." He was about to protest, as anyone would asked to submit to any of Anissina's monstrosities. At least she only wanted a moderately heavy object and not a guinea pig this time. He relented.

He had something to show me? Missive from the Rocheforts, perhaps, evidence of Evert being a sneaky bastard in ways that were just barely within the law, remains of shrapnel from another attack on my family just to prove who held the power? Anissina's was leaving and Gunter and I were alone in the home I loved, but I didn't let my heart lift. "What's the bad news?"

"Nothing new. Come with me?" He smiled and looked almost shy. Of course I nodded, confused and oddly excited in the way one ought not allow oneself to become. Pessimism, I have discovered, is for self defense. I followed him back outside. The day had clouded over while I was in the attic and the air was damp, ready to rain if given a chance. The sun still filtered through the clouds, at odd angles and intervals, so the world looked both too sharp and dreamlike all at once. The deep colors were exaggerated, like the green of the moss on the ground, while the pale colors all turned to pure light or shadow.

And in the middle of the yard was a shape that sucked in any light that touched it. I breathed in sharply enough to be called a gasp. I'd never seen such a handsome horse, jet black but for a single star on its brow, satiny, lush black that drank and defied light. It wasn't saddled and stood beside a smaller horse, the the chestnut mare I recognized from early morning chats with Giesela. Forget what Gunter had to show me. "Yours?" I was taken. That much was obvious.

Perhaps Gunter was used to seeing a stunned, worshipful look on my face, because he didn't bat an eyelash at what was no doubt quite the display. "Yours. The same dam as mine but a different father. I wanted to give you your real wedding gift now to make sure your beastly fiancé has no part in it. There'll be some token on the day itself, of course. You'll have to work hard enough not to insult that idiot as he deserves without help from me."

Mine. Mine, and from Gunter. A young, fiery stallion that was all a horse ought to be. And… the thought I had was no doubt both wicked and childish, self-defeating and egotistical all at once. Black horses were fine to breed, sell, or own. A bit of an affectation (one I indulged in), but an ordinary enough indulgence. But as a gift, they were traditionally presented only to the Maou or to those lucky enough to have eyes to match their hair, double-blacks on important occasions like coming of age. Or weddings. In addition to a kind and generous gift, whether he intended it or not I saw the horse as a profoundly gratifying compliment. "Gunter, thank you." I didn't think I'd ever let myself speak to him so warmly and gently, making such eye contact. I was bolder at home, perhaps. And more reckless as an unwilling betrothed.

He smiled at me in return. For a moment my heart really did melt, the ice falling harmlessly away. For a smile like that I would have thrown off any shackles but the ones that held me. If Gunter had looked at me like that before Dirk… At least as the wind picked up around us in the yard I believed I would have kissed him. As it faded away again into a teasing breeze the moment faded with it. Oh, Gunter, never to be mine. "What's his name?"

"Gyre. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you changed it." He eased his cool, long fingered hand out of mine as he turned. I hadn't even realized I'd been holding his. Which made the movement far more natural, as I'd have been struggling to make my fingers release his casually and probably failed. Still, a pity I hadn't been able to pay the sensation proper mind.

"It suits him." I walked to the horse and stroked his mane. He tossed his head a bit. Seemed he had a temper, which I didn't mind in the least. I should have, strictly, but it was hard to object to an animal as prickly as I was that I would inevitably find a way to get along with. "Hello, Gyre." Gunter's own horse was still nearby. I could see that they were brother and sister, faintly. The star they shared, the rather proud bearing, perhaps something more esoteric. It was likely just that I was used to my own half siblings and the odd, half-imagined ways to identify us as brothers.

"So… do you know why Anissina decided to extend your invitation?" I was still looking Gyre over, admiring every inch. Splendid, splendid creature.

"Looking back, I should have realized it wasn't quite your sort of thing. She seems to have decided you need to have, in her words, a last hurrah before we throw you to the sharks."

Hadn't noticed such sentiments might not have my approval? Oh, Gunter, my airhead. "I wasn't aware I'd had a first hurrah."

"Yes, well, I'd also have invited all your friends, if you had any." Anissina strode out to meet us. "Take your new friend to the stable, Gwen, and then you're going to want a bath." I glared at her. "And then get ready for a bit of a trip."

"What in heaven's name are you plotting, you lunatic?" Couldn't I have a quiet few weeks at home before my deplorable wedding? With Gunter as a guest, it'd be divine.

"For some normal person, I'd probably suggest a trip to hot springs or a nice coastal city full of loose women and free flowing wine, or preferably both." She giggled, and even Gunter smiled, at the glower I wore. "But since it's our dear, gloomy Gwendal, I thought we'd take a few days in the caverns and see what interesting adventures we can scare up."

"Oh." Honestly, that didn't sound so bad. So of course the other shoe would soon be dropping. "And?"

"And nothing. We'll take food for a few days and go wandering. I'll be looking for some of that nicely resonant black crystal I found down there a year or so back, but you boys don't mind me! Now Gwen, go clean the spider webs out of your hair."

What could I do but obey? I was smeared with dust and worst. And this'd give me an opportunity to change into something less shabby and horrid. I walked Gyre to his new home. Gunter followed and the wench didn't. "I'm very glad to welcome you, Gunter, but you did catch me coming out of an attic I've not set foot in for a decade, so you'll have to forgive." I bowed a bit with mock courtesy. He smiled.

"There's a centipede on your ear."

"Oh." Revolting. I lost my moment's calm composure and ducked away. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

If there was one great luxury in the Eyrie, the baths were it. Going to a hot springs resort, on top of not suiting my temperament, would have been horribly silly. There were springs underneath the house that were channeled into the outdoor baths, toasty even in the dead of winter. The marble tiles and fountains were at least as impressive as the ones at the castle. I dumped a bucket over my head to get rid of the worst dirt before I stepped in.

The soak did me good. I began to plan for our trip. There was no getting out of it, and it might even be somewhat enjoyable. The cave system under the nearby mountains went on for miles. Part of it was elf territory, but I was fairly friendly with them, and the prince under the mountain was Wolfram's playmate, so I didn't worry about that. I only knew a small fraction of the tunnels and caves. No one knew much more than that. The space underground was practically infinite. But there were some impressive crystal caverns, some pools that glowed with iridescent colors, a river filled with strange, ghostly creatures without eyes. Plenty worth seeing. And more importantly, quiet.

I was lost in thought enough that I didn't react to the little splashes off to my left. If I noticed them subconsciously I assumed it was Anissina, who had all the respect for personally boundaries one might associate with an amorous squirrel.

"Hope you don't mind, Gwendal. It was a long ride." Gunter settled beside me. My heart skipped a beat or two before I could answer.

"Of course not. It's the best hospitality worth offering around here." I pushed my hair out of my face and smiled. And at the exact moment my hand was between my eyes and his line of sight, I stole the glance I couldn't resist. He was impossibly beautiful. I had only a split second, but my eyes drank it all in. Smooth, pearlescent skin marred with a few scars from blades. Slim as he was, the lean muscle I'd guessed at through the robes during our dance was perfectly visible, practically glowing. I could lose myself forever in that body, in each and every detail. A naked Gunter was reclining beside me. Could heaven be far behind?

Yes, but hell could be close. I tore my eyes away, forced every wicked, luscious thought to the back of my mind. I simply could not. For one thing, even dreams of situations like this led to very visible effects. I shifted, just to make sure if I did let my guard down enough to be ratted on by my own body, it wouldn't be immediately visible.

In the bath with Gunter. It would be so easy to pull him to me. Much as I liked to think of mine as a pure, almost courtly love, lust seemed the stronger right now. If I reached for him now, might I perhaps be able to beg a few moments of affection, something out of pity for my situation?

Perhaps. But only to earn his contempt thereafter. And there was a perverse satisfaction in going to my rotten fiancé unstained, as it were. Make myself a paragon of all he was not. There were few more hollow victories I could think of, but any port in a storm.

"Have you ever seen the northern caverns? They extend between Voltaire and Bielefeld lands." Just making conversation. I ducked my head under a spout shaped like a snake's head to wash out the soap.

"Not at all. I'd always assumed the north was eternally snowy, and it didn't appeal."

"We're not that far up. It's rocky around here, but this is just hills compared to what lies north." I snuck another glance at him as I wrung out my hair.

"I can see. I never got around to trimming your hair. Would you like me to now? I can even out the scorched parts, though they're already correcting themselves."

"Mmm." My hair grew fast. In another few weeks, the uneven ends probably wouldn't be noticeable. But then what excuse would I have for Gunter to run his hands through my wet hair? "Thank you. I can't quite reach around myself."

"No trouble at all. So tell me about these caverns." The mind can adapt to anything. Before long I was happily engaged in chatting with Gunter, and almost never sneaking chances to run my eyes over him. Once we'd dressed, he followed me to my room to fix my hair.

The only pair of scissors I had were a bit big for the job. He seemed dubious, and I had to admit it was odd to aim two six-inch daggers at the back of my head. No way around it, though. He sat me in my desk chair and hummed to himself as he began.

I really did intend to comb my hair myself beforehand, but in a hurry to comply, I'd left it undone. The most delicious moment of absent-mindedness imaginable. Gunter ran his fingers through to pull out the really big snarls, sending little shivers all through me, and then ran a comb through behind his fingers, a hundred times each side. I hadn't realized there was a single person alive who actually did that, but I hoped he'd never stop.

Evening out the ends of my hair didn't take long. After the breathtaking moments of electricity that had come of Gunter's fingertips sliding over my scalp, it was a bit of a let down. "There, you can't even tell there was an accident." He ran his hand once down the back of my head and neck to smooth it. He hesitated, letting his hand linger. Let it stay there, let its warmth on the nape of my neck remain…

"Gwendal, have you ever done anything different with your hair?"

"I like it long," I said, a bit weakly. Did he not approve?

"I agree. You've got too long a face to chop it off. I have the same problem. But I seem to remember you had bangs when you were younger."

"Yes. Mother liked them." It was ridiculous to discuss this, but if it would keep Gunter standing behind me. "I grew them out years ago. They made me look fifty."

"Hmm, to some degree, so does pulling it all back into a braid. Trust me to try something, perhaps?" I certainly didn't refuse. He moved around in front of me. I really couldn't have cared less what he was doing with the scissors (though the silver flash near my eyes was disconcerting). With him there, I was staring into his chest, watching his hair swing to the side, the shifts of his body through cloth, drinking him in.

"There. Much better. That's really quite handsome." He picked up a hand mirror that left its outline in the dust where he'd snatched it from and held it up. I had to admit, his alterations did suit me. He'd left the first few inches to fall just below my chin and tied the rest of my hair up in a bit of a twist. It did look more grown up. Far more flattering. I couldn't believe Gunter could make me care about this. For him, anything, I supposed. "Splendid."

"It's just hair." I even cracked a bit of a smile.

"Your crowning glory. Revel in it." He grinned widely. Oh, he was an airhead, sometimes. "Shall we head down and see about lunch, perhaps?"

"Good idea." I was mildly ashamed to show him to the mostly abandoned kitchen where I ate. I really would have to spruce up the Eyrie in the coming months. Maybe Gunter would visit often if I made it worth his while. Lunch was cold chicken and rolls with a few slightly wilted carrots on the side. The sort of bag lunch one brought to grammar school.

Anissina stuck her head in the door as we sat down. "Gwendal, darling, I need a quick jolt for Mr. Stimulates Abnormally Slow Brain Function."

"…Just quick?" It might be worth it if I could get her to leave us alone for a while. I'd have to put up with her constantly during out little spelunking trip, of course, but at least then she'd have something to do. Little pebbles to put in jars, crystals to poke and see how they conducted magic, cave creatures to terrorize. Her energy would have somewhere to _go_, and that meant relative safety.

"Very quick. I promise." Her smile was honeyed, and never had such sweetness dripped such venom. Uh-oh. I nodded to excuse myself and walked into the hall. What had I done now?

She had me follow her down a narrow hallway that led to the pantry, assuaging any doubt that she meant something horrid. Rather suddenly, she spun, grabbed my shoulders, and shoved me into the wall. I was the soldier and I should have been on guard, given I was trailing a woman that'd terrify a starving dragon. That said, Anissina was no slouch in her own martial skills, though during the war she'd been deployed only in healing witch and tactical engineering positions. And she surprised me, fair as fair got around her.

She glared at me with such violence I swear I saw lightening spark in her eyelashes. "Gwendal… There are only so many chances I can give you."

"…What?" And here I figured I'd dislodged the capacitor cap on the long range spectrometer of her translocation engine (which may or may not have been a real thing).

"Alone in the courtyard while he presented you an absurdly overdone gift? I even sent him to the bath with you. You're running out of chances, Gwen. I can only orchestrate so much, _Gwen_. I am about to just let Dirk have you and leave you and your oh-so-delicate boyfriend pining for each other forever, Lord Gwendal Hieronymus Von Voltaire IV. Oh, if I had my knitting needles on me I'd take your eye out for a lesson!"

"Anissina…" Arg. She meant well, for once in her life, but it wasn't to be and that couldn't be more obvious. "I am marrying—"

"You are marrying a man who couldn't care less about your fidelity any more than his."

"I am making a very important alliance in order to prevent a civil war. And should all the world crumble around me, damn it, I will do it right." A good heart secreted away in a rime of ice. An unimpeachable, lonely life. How could I disappoint Shinou and renege now? "I have more responsibilities to family and country than to my own gratification!"

She looked taken aback for a moment. I _had_ sounded rather good there. Oratory was a gift I hadn't practiced much lately. Well done, me. But being Anissina, she collected herself in a moment. "He wants to screw you, too, numbskull."

"For one, no he doesn't."

"You love to think of him as an angel, but you used to think he was wise beyond reproof, too. He'd fall right into bed with you if you asked. He's lonely too. He likes you. What's stopping you?"

Even if she was right—and she wasn't—that would never be what I wanted. At first having Gunter inamorato would be divine, but it'd be empty soon. I wanted his heart, his real companionship, to see the devotion in those perfect opal eyes I knew was hiding in my dull blue ones. Anything less was worse than not at all. The best way to ensure that was to keep him my dear friend.

And… and I was afraid.

"Better a lifelong friend than an erstwhile lover," I finally answered.

"Fine. Refuse to be happy for ten minutes. Lock yourself forever in your ivory tower, oh Prince of Pompadoodle. Try and keep believing that remaining unstained gets you anywhere, Gwendal. But I wash my hands of it. Go back and listen politely and _try_ not to think of him in your bed. No longer my problem." She made exaggerated "good riddance" motions and stomped off. I could tell she was honestly angry at me. She really did want to help. But at this point, my good opinion of myself, my honor, was about all I had left.

"Did you really just call me the Prince of Pompadoodle?" She was taking insults from nursery rhymes now?

"Yes!" came the angry answer as I heard the door to the servants' stairs close.

I went back to lunch. Gunter had waited for me. The sweetheart. "…Do not offend that monster."

"I think you're too hard on her, but of course, she's nearly your sister. I have similar feelings about your mother."

"Everyone has those," I said, cheerfully disrespectful. He smiled and patted my hand. Dear Gunter. I ignored the little voice (Anissina's) in the back of my head that read the gesture as she would, that said Gunter's kindness might mean his willingness, if not his love. I wouldn't sully my most precious friendship.

He helped me pack for our trip to the caves. Not that he was a lot of use, either suggesting extraneous, useless supplies to weigh us down or getting distracted by random items Father or some more distant predecessor had added to the house. Our knickknacks were more strange than costly. But it was so cute to see Gunter busy examining the carvings on a cracking walrus tusk or trying to puzzle out the mad geometry of a coelacanth skeleton mounted on the wall that I blessed my Voltaire ancestors and their esoteric tastes. Even if it did wind up with our house being more than usually haunted.

It is very odd to wake up with a ghost fish swimming through one's room.

By afternoon we were ready, but it was too late to leave. Gunter, Anissina, and I enjoyed dinner together on the second floor balcony, overlooking the village. She produced a bottle of wine from my cellars and a fresh caught couple of perch from the lake made up the main course. Gunter told a long, rather rambling story about a half-human sorcerer who'd inadvertently created the Flybones in an attempt to animate gargoyles to guard his keep. It was likely untrue, a legend halfway to myth, but his voice and animation were more important than the story. I fell asleep that night slightly tipsy, cool in the breeze from my window, and with the smell of Gunter lingering in my precious handkerchief, spread out on the pillow beside me while I slept.

Anissina woke me by sitting on my chest about dawn, by which time the pleasant buzz had turned to a pesky headache and all I smelled was lingering sour grapes. I stumbled through washing, brushing my hair, and shaving, took three tries to get my hair to do what Gunter had yesterday and gave up with the cunning twist still lopsided, and stumbled down for breakfast. Though I longed to try Gyre for a good ride, Anissina hadn't brought her own horse and we'd only be able to ride a few miles before hitting the caverns, we walked.

Anissina seemed to have forgiven me for not letting her steer me into debauchery and walked a few paces behind us, scraping interesting lichen off of rocks. When I asked why she said she'd distill it into poison and let me know from there, so maybe I wasn't quite off the hook yet.

Gunter was enthralled, and it would touch the hardest heart to see him. The plants and landscape were so different from his home, he told me at length. The thick conifers and sparse ground cover reminded him of tropical mountaintops, which prompted him to tell me all about his time in the lands of unending summer. Personally I was sure I'd suffocate, but he seemed so excited. When we saw a bear from a distance he squealed, and Anissina (surprisingly good with animals) tempted it close enough to eat a crust of bread from his hand. When we saw an osprey dive at some silver darting shape in a lake he insisted on stopping to watch its repeated strikes at the fish until it flew away triumphant. Between us, Anissina and I could name most of the plants he asked about, though we couldn't begin to satisfy his curiosity about the stone beneath. Only Gunter's curiosity could extend that far. Really, I was a bookworm myself, but I liked to think with _some_ eye to utility.

But however silly, the boundless quest to immerse himself in the world was charming. I ended up smiling as we walked. "You ask more questions than Wolfram."

"It's that or risk missing something. I can't ever set foot on a battlefield again, I'm no politician, and the opportunities among the nobility for a baker and singer are limited."

"You sing?" He must be a nightingale.

"Hmph, a bit. But you see what I mean, Gwen. My mind is all I have to offer. How could I afford to miss a thing? Oh, what's this one?"

"A ten-petaled blazing star. Here." I plucked one blossom and held it up for him. Released, the tightly intertwined petals opened slowly, uncurling into a tiny sunrise. His eyes opened wider and he let out a little gasp through a smile, half covering his mouth. He took it from me and tucked it behind his ear. I took the picture to heart, determined to remember it always, and kept walking. Anissina poked my toe with her totally unnecessary walking stick.

The mouth of the caverns does not look inviting. The stone is gray and dull (even to an undiscerning eye like mine that doesn't know one rock from another), the overhang is always damp, and however little wind there is, enough catches in the strange little twists and crannies in the entrance exist to make it whistle.

"Ah, black crystal, here I come!" Anissina lit her lantern with a thought and darted in. Gunter shrugged at me and we followed at a more leisurely pace. As neither of us were aligned with fire, we had to use a match to get our light working. Though my own alliance with earth served me well here.

"Is it true there are elves living here?"

"There are some near the Bielefeld side, though it's hard to tell whose territory you're under when there's a mile of earth on top." I held the lantern higher as we left the light of the cave's mouth. "They're difficult to get along with, though they respected my father and their current prince and Wolfram play together better than the brat does with Conrart nowadays."

"I've always wanted to meet some. There must be a wealth of wisdom to learn from a whole different people."

"Mostly surliness and distrust. The city has its attractions, but it's a few days' travel on the surface and I don't have any idea of the way down here. But there _are_ a few beautifully iridescent ponds. The chemicals in the cave turn them all sorts of shades. There are a few living chambers where stalactites are still forming that I know of, and one cavern… well, I'll surprise you with that one."

"Oh, I'll be waiting. Where's Anissina gone?"

Good question. "Elsewhere? I suppose we should look." He spoke a charm that I assumed was meant to aid in discovering the whereabouts of pesky inventors, but it didn't seem to help much. I took note of where we were and set off in what seemed the most likely direction.

"I thought I saw a flash of red down there." Gunter pointed down a corridor I wasn't familiar with. I said as much, he agreed we shouldn't go far, and we started in the indicated direction.

It soon proved to be no glimpse of Anissina's hair or tunic that he'd seen, but a chunk of glittering crystal the color of blood that jutted from the wall. I was tempted to call it a ruby, but I didn't know enough of gems to know the difference between the most precious stone and a piece of colored quartz. "Pretty, if not useful."

"Seems a shame to leave down here. It'd make a lovely keepsake." Gunter smiled and tried to pull it from the wall. It refused to give. Before I could advise against it he braced his foot against the wall and tugged.

Three things happened at once. There was a loud scraping sound, Gunter toppled back into me in a pile of cloak and skinny, gorgeous mazoku sorcerer, and a crack appeared in the floor. I saw it sneak into existence, saw it widen. Perhaps had anyone but Gunter fallen on me I'd have been faster to react, to hop up and flee, but as it was, my hand was, by honest accident, resting on the very edge of what could be considered the small of his back, and that wasn't likely ever to happen again.

I still didn't really feel it was my fault when we went sliding with most of the tunnel into the hole that opened underneath. At least I was perfectly justified in holding onto his waist as we tumbled down with the other debris.

It was completely dark when the world stopped shifting. My shoulder and knee ached, but nothing felt broken, and there was a bit of wet, warm stickiness in my hair. Overall, not bad for a cave-in. And I'd taken most of the brunt for Gunter. He just sneezed in the darkness, and a moment later a cold, wavery light sprang to life. It centered on the signet ring on his finger.

"Useful charm."

"Oh, Gwendal, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry." Lost in endless caves under enough dirt and stone to submerge the highest towers of Covenant Castle? Beat marrying Dirk any day. "Will the light last?"

"Not for more than half an hour. It's a stopgap measure. I'll find the lantern."

And hope it hadn't been crushed to uselessness. I helped him look despite his protests, and we found it with just one broken plate not far from where we'd landed. That gave us much more light and wasn't visibly tiring Gunter out, so we could look around.

The cave-in hadn't been polite enough to arrange itself so we had a ramp to climb back up. The wall behind us was sheer and the stone was soft. Even if we could find handholds, it'd crumble in our fingers. "We'll need to look for a way back up. You have parchment on you? If we keep a map we'll be able to find our way back here to try our luck on this wall, if need be."

Gunter swallowed. He looked a bit pale. I patted his shoulder. "Really, it's not a disaster. I'm sure we'll find a way out soon." He was so contrite.

"It's not that. I believed you'd forgiven me the first time." He held up his hand. One fingernail was split and bleeding rather profusely. "Any injury that's been caused by pressure tends to make me a little queasy and unbalanced is all."

"Oh, Gunter…" I sighed and tied a kerchief around it. "You have the parchment?"

"Yes?"

"Than let's go." I knew where the entrance was above us, so best to try and work our way back in that direction, or so said logic. We went slowly, Gunter clearly still sure I was angry with him (and I would have been, if it hadn't been for Dirk and, well, the fact that Gunter could get away with murder as far as I was concerned). I matched his pace and let him rest. Though a small wound, he was right about the shakiness such a blow produced.

The caverns we walked through were fairly bland for a while. A few pretty rock formations, but not much but gray stone and damp floors. I slipped once on a patch of slime and a white salamander crawled up my sleeve, but that was the highlight of our quest to that point.

Then we came on a cave that glowed faintly bright blue. We rested beside that for a while, Gunter telling me all about copper and how it magnified magical properties of storms and other weatherworking magicks. He had a way of making one feel severely undereducated.

The cavern after that was alive. Every surface was covered in a viscous fluid that was adding more to the rocks every day. The stalactites and stalagmites looked liquid themselves, like half-melted sculptures in lovely colors. Gunter cheered up a bit then and I found it impressive myself. While he was examining a rivulet of green water between two mounds of rock, I snuck I a petty and selfish use of magic, urging the stone to subtly form Gunter's name and mine. In a few centuries it would either be eroded away or written boldly across the floor, depending which way the water went. If only our companionship in the living world could go in as many directions.

And then we stepped into a legend.

My knowledge of the caves came from elves and from the diaries of family members, Voltaires before me who'd done some exploring in their spare time, some distant cousins or younger sons hoping to make a name for themselves, discover something amazing. Several made oblique mentions to a local story from the time of Shinou, a tale so romantic and silly no one would believe it was true, but which resonated nonetheless. And yet we found it.

The chamber we walked out into was uniquely round and smooth. The walls were that black crystal Anissina found so appealing for reasons of her own. Though above our heads they were studded with what looked like it might be moonstone, in smooth little droplets, most of the cave was all solid black.

Gunter began to tell me about how such black glass formed, but I shushed him as gently as I could. Even in the entryway to the round little room, I heard whispers. An echo of an echo, a voice in the dark that carried distance and age though it was, my ears told me, right ahead. When Gunter heard it, and saw I wasn't rushing in to rescue some poor soul calling for help, he stopped and was quiet with me.

On tiptoe, I walked into the room. It grew louder as we walked until we almost stepped right into a hole in the floor that fell smoothly away and down past where our lights could reach. Directly above, the whispers became loud.

It was a wordless song from nowhere, echoes trapped forever by the impossibly smooth stone, bouncing round and round off the walls of the cylindrical well in the floor. The tune was old and simple, the voice pure and sweet, and its ghostly melody, though quiet, entered the very bones. It resonated in my very heart. It was, at the same time, the most beautiful and most horrifying thing I'd ever heard, a keening, desperate sorrow, the expression of a gifted artist. After a moment of listening one wasn't even hearing with one's ears, but bones, instead. My whole body was suffused in the mourning song. It was too beautiful to move, to risk disrupting for a moment with a sudden movement, yet it was utterly maddening. My fingers itched to be pressed into my ears, but I still wanted to listen, and despite that, it wouldn't make and difference. The song was everywhere, inside and out, forever strengthened and repeated in its hole, escaping to ensnare the senses of anyone who walked by.

I don't know how long I'd have listened, but Gunter suddenly tore away from my side and bolted through the cavern to the other side. I was snapped out of the spell myself and followed, but more slowly, escaping the song only once I'd left the cavern entirely. It took minutes to cross the floor when a few steps really should have done it.

Gunter was waiting for me, white faced, a ways down the cavern. I'd had the lantern, so he was waiting in the dark and looked like he'd tripped as a result. He gaped at me. "What was that?"

"Nanda's chamber." He just blinked at me. "Local story, I suppose. All that's been passed down is the name. Nanda was either a young man from the country's army or a young woman whose husband was a soldier. Either way, this was back during Shinou's War." It felt good to speak, to hear our ordinary voices, to be close to Gunter's warmth rather than cold, singing stone. Even relating what I'd always thought was a horrid story, whatever positive spin patriotism and optimism put to it. "There are conflicting versions. In some, Nanda's attacked by a possessed victim of Soushu's, in others mortal but well armed soldiers from the opposing army. Either way, Nanda fled into the caves and was still pursued, and rather than give up, hurled him or herself into a deep pit just before they caught up. The pursuer or pursuers assumed the prey was dead and left, but Nanda was still alive, just with two broken legs and the knowledge that the village was busy defending itself and no help would come. Nanda was a singer, and rather than lie still and give in to pain, kept the notes up until the last breath. The surviving villagers found the cave well after Nanda was dead, but the song never stopped, echoing forever just like we heard. Even Shinou's supposed to have come to see and hear." My eye twinged unpleasantly as I spoke. "In the story, the song's one of victory, but what we heard is the voice of someone dying alone and without hope." I swallowed and shivered. In none of the stories was it mentioned that someone had found a way to raise poor Nanda back out of the pit. There were no doubt ancient, dusty bones waiting along with the unending notes behind us. I shivered harder, and Gunter hugged me. We stood that way for a while, me too shaken to even enjoy it. There was beauty behind us, a memorial to one so long dead and obscure even gender was forgotten, but the chill was too much on top of being lost and alone.

We walked on after we could force ourselves to stop cowering. Not much further, though. Whether it was because of Nanda's voice or just having been trapped in a cave in and picking our way through underground tunnels all day, we were exhausted. Gunter and I made camp, such as it was, in a fairly dry alcove, close together. It was chilly. By then I was recovered enough to like it, to watch him fall asleep before I put out the lamp, steal the softest of kisses right on his cheekbone. Ghosts and falling rocks alike wouldn't touch him. My sweet, silly Gunter.

When I finally fell asleep, inched a bit closer to him than I otherwise would have been, I didn't feel alone in my dreams. A voice I recognized, that had a different way of resonating all through me, was speaking in the darkness while my poor eye throbbed. "A good child. A brave girl. They told her story the best they could, but she lies forgotten under miles of earth and travelers react with revulsion. And what will you do about it, Volatire?"

"Send an expedition down. Have a proper memorial raised. Try and find a way to pull her bones out. …Lord Shinou." Were honorifics required in dreams?

"And what will you tell your liegemen about that?"

"That a girl singing with her last breath deserves as much honor as the general who led the forces."

"Cheeky." But did I sense he approved? I dreamed then of following the end of a white robe around corners. When I woke, Gunter was up already. I led him by the same paths I'd seen in my dream. Nice to think Lord Shinou could make himself so useful, except it made me worry about what his plans for me might be such that they were worth granting dreamed maps to lost nobles.

Probably just didn't want to see the repercussions if Dirk and I didn't wed. Gunter was pleasantly surprised and quite complimentary when we saw Anissina coming toward us, scolding me mercilessly for getting lost, finding out whose fault it was, and scolding him even longer. We all felt we'd had enough of the caves and headed home. And from there, little time remained before my wedding.

Gunter and Anissina both headed south a day before I did to handle making sure my family was in line to perform their necessary roles. And also to give me time to say goodbye to home one last time before I'd come back wedded and bedded to a lout. Perhaps the black satin chair in the solar wouldn't care much about the change, but I would, and that was enough.

When I finally arrived at Covenant Castle, Wolfram was waiting for me. "Gwen! Gwen, I heard you fought a monster in the caves? Can I see it? Can Alapai? Can I visit Alapai and go see the monster?"

"Not a monster. Not quite even a ghost, little brother. Are you ready to help give me away?"

"No." His face scrunched up in his most stubborn way. "I'm not gonna. I want to keep you."

"I wish you could, Wolf." I gave him a ride into the castle on my shoulders. He was persuaded to show me his clothes for the wedding, which cheered him up the way only displaying finery could. Conrart shrugged at the suggestion he display his, but Josack was happy to oblige. He actually blushed when he first saw me. I reminded myself to keep a close eye on him. Partaking in a glamorous, momentous affair for noble mazoku would be both treat and torment for the boy.

Mother, of course, looked splendid. Unnervingly so. Stoffel looked himself, but with his buttons shinier. Raven came along to help carry things and offer moral support, for which I was thankful. The two days I spent at the castle in rapid, maddening preparation disappeared far too quickly. I was in a haze all the time. Finally, the day was upon me. I'd leave now, and when I returned my family allegiances would no longer be mine and I'd be the ransom for the nation, peace my groomprice. Dealing with ghost girls seemed palatable by comparison.

Shinou was irksomely silent when I visited the temple. My eye did hurt a little, though.

I couldn't hold onto details or experiences. The more I tried to drink in for the last few days as myself alone, as Gwendal unsullied, the more they vanished. Wolfram and I went for a walk, or maybe that was with Conrart. Mother fitted a jade pendant into my hair for luck one morning. Or after dinner; I wasn't sure. Anissina and Gunter had gone on ahead. There was no one in the castle I could speak to but Wolfram, and though he'd listen he was getting old enough to understand. I wouldn't overburden him.

I was finished.

The days of travel it took to reach the Rochefort's manor were no more respite than the time at the castle had been. Minutes dragged, but hours vanished. I almost punched Stoffel for a comment to Josack. Not even a particularly nasty one. The boy shrugged it off. But I needed to be doing something other than staring down the barrel of despicably married life.

We arrived in the morning. The wedding was set for the early evening to be followed by a feast. I'd been so efficient in my preparations there was nothing at all to do. Now that I could only hope to get it over with quickly, seconds took eons to pass. I stared at a clock. I made the acquaintance of a skittish, ill-bred (if pretty) white horse I'd be riding to the wedding. I rechecked the boxes that contained my dowry gifts. I paced back and forth a lot. Gunter and Anissina must be here somewhere, but the two grooms weren't to mix with the party. It wasn't seemly. At least I didn't see Dirk, either.

And finally, a quarter mile from the Rochefort's front gate, I was hopping onto the unpleasant cob, Frostling. Mother was on my right, holding the reigns. Stoffel took the left, hand on her neck, trying to look extra regal. My hair was dressed as nicely as the stubborn stuff would agree to being. Mother had procured new formal clothes for me, the old new ones having been burnt to greenish crisps. Josack, Conrart, and Wolfram fell into step behind, looking nervously excited, sulky, and smugly sulky, respectively. I could only try and keep my face neutral. A smile would have cracked the fabric of the universe.

Dirk was waiting at the steps. I swung down with something like elegance, despite Frostling's twitchiness. I'd recited the hated words a dozen times a day since leaving the Eyrie. After a while, they became just sounds, thoughtless, flat, no more an investiture than breathing. "Dirk Von Rochefort, in accepting your hand I have granted my heart. Do me the honor of accepting me into your home."

He stumbled a bit over his. He didn't look as bad as I remembered. Maybe, in this crowd and in formal clothes that didn't suit him, he looked a bit younger. "The honor is mine and my heart is granted in return. Enter, and become one with my blood." He unfurled the Rochefort marriage robe, an unflattering combination of canary yellow and light blue. It hung on my shoulders like a cobweb on a coathook, but no marriage robe was flattering.

"In return do me the great honor of binding your blood to mine, and let our houses become one." I shook out my robe and draped it over his shoulders. He looked slightly less like a little boy playing dress up, but only slightly, and that advantage was ruined when his shoulder slipped free.

"Let our houses and our homes be one. That you may being in partaking in what I have, I grant you my sigil." This one was his advantage. No worrying over what dowry gifts would pass as meaningful, just a carved red brooch with the Rochefort crest emblazoned on it. Oh, I'd wear _that_ everywhere.

Actually, I'd have to. Damn.

"I accept your gracious gift with full heart. That my life and yours may be joined entirely, I offer these tokens. Firstly, an artifact gathered by my grandmother in an exploratory expedition to the summer country." Josack stepped forward, perfectly on cue, and handed him the vase. He didn't bat an eyelid, apparently not recognizing Josack's ancestry and assuming him to be some minor branch of the family's cousin. "The mark of honor granted me by my commanding officer in recognition of victory in battle." Conrart gave him the bridle. They scowled at each other, but only a little. Hopefully no one noticed. "And a newly bound book of ancient prophecy, lives past and present bound into one to look toward a bright future." Oh, the nonsense. I got just a moment's amusement when Wolfram pretended to overbalance standing on tiptoe and dropped the book on Dirk's toe. It looked sweet and endearing, and Dirk looked a bit of a lout for frowning at him as he stooped to pick it up.

He hadn't appointed anyone to stand nearby and take the gifts, and was left standing awkwardly for a moment before his father quickly stepped up. My little joys were becoming so very petty. Dirk looked at me. "Your gracious gifts' message further deepens my love." Oh, the line was in the ceremony, but it felt like an arrow to the heart. "Give me your hand, and let our life as one begin."

Oh, goodbye, youth and what was left of innocence. Goodbye Gunter, and the sweet, hopeful dreams that now are truly impossible. Goodbye, freedom, peace of mind. Goodbye, my heart. Let the ice take me now, to my Lord Shinou's satisfaction. I gave him my hand, and the marriage was sealed.


	9. Noblisse Oblige

Time hadn't been behaving since Gunter and I had left the caves. Stretching, shrinking, taking great leaps or stopping altogether, the minutes had left my head spinning as they went by. As Dirk and I turned to enter the wedding banquet, time fell back into its accustomed place with a crunch. I felt myself wake up, and grim as reality was to be, it was a relief to have my feet on the ground once more.

I'd been so wound up in my own rather small part I hadn't been at all aware of my surroundings. I only got a glimpse of the manor's yard on our way in. It was a handsome, if uninspired, landscape, noisy and busy with servants rushing back and forth. It was as though my ears had been waterlogged. How had I missed all the cries and barked orders and hurried debates? It was an overcast day, the wind light and carrying the promise of occasional drizzle. Someone was probably weatherworking to keep the real rain at bay. I'd been walking in a fog both physical and metaphorical.

I rebuked myself as I walked beside my husband down a long hallway covered in portraits of Rocheforts past, but as we entered the banquet hall, I wished the fog would return. Heading a procession through a dim hallway had been almost peaceful. The wall of sound when the double doors (carved with rampant stags) were opened nearly knocked me over. The Rocheforts had spared absolutely no expense, and not a single invitation, either. It seemed to me every noble in Shin Makoku was waiting in that room, and talking up a storm about my nuptials.

A fanfare sounded as we entered, and I trailed Dirk to the head table. Elevated above the rest, it was set with nothing but gold and crystal, with a horrifically opulent meal waiting. There was definitely a whole roasted hart on that table. With the horns still on.

I glanced about surreptitiously as we were seated. The head table seated me and Dirk, his parents and sister, and my mother and brothers. We sat only on one side so we could face the room. Below the raised dais on the right sat the assembled extended Rochefort clan, cousins, uncles and aunts, a grandparent or two. On the left were the eight of the Ten Aristocrats not at the high table, with a few young children. Their families were next, and beyond that, the tables hosted a selection of lesser nobility and knights, mainly from Rochefort holdings or nearby. I wished I were together enough to take stock of faces and names, deduce from seating who was in favor. It would be useful information, but I wasn't ready.

There were applause as we entered, and I forced my face into a frozen smile for the crowd. Not that I expected any of them to care about the happiness of an arranged marriage. I found myself rather pettily annoyed that they were all _here_. It was just a wedding. An important political wedding, but no reason to invite the entire kingdom. Unless you wanted to make a point very loudly and publically. Something nasty was surely coming. And everyone knew it, or they wouldn't be here at all.

Dirk's father made a bit of a speech. I didn't pay it much mind. It was very bland, and if it concealed a few subtle insults, I was beyond caring. A blending of powers old and new? Sure. A step toward real unification? Yes, yes. The whole room knew the Rocheforts still held power and my mother had no made herself look well. He was saying nothing new.

I took the chance to glance over the room. Musicians were setting up in one corner and many of the servants had a borrowed look about them. This was to be a most ostentatious affair. Letting my eyes search the crowd rather than the gilded room, I found Anissina at the table on the left, piling random objects one on top of another, with a napkin folded into a swan atop it all. For once, I wished she _would_ blow something up.

Beside her was Lord Von Wincott. And then Gunter, with Giesela beside him, both attending the speech with the enthusiasm of school children on a lovely summer day. They wore identical expressions of disgust, filtered through sickly smiles. I wished he hadn't brought his daughter. Giesela's cheerful demeanor and cleverness, to my mind, suited her to happy or noble occasions, not this fiasco. I thought the same of my brothers, of Josack, of every child or any sort of innocent in the room at this hypocritical, megalomaniacal juncture.

My father-in-law ended his speech only as the crowd could barely restrain their yawning. He was really my father-in-law. The realization came like rain dripping down the back of my neck. Uncomfortable, constant, and petty. I wondered if I would have to say anything. Was it traditional? I couldn't even remember. It wasn't in the ceremony.

Mother spoke next. I was glad to see that she'd dressed a little more quietly for the occasion than was her usual wont. She seldom looked like somebody's mother, but at least today she looked like she might be someone's not particularly wild young aunt. Black was becoming on her. I wondered who had written her speech. If it was Evert I'd be wanting to hide under the table in a minute.

"When I woke up this morning, I knew it was the perfect day for a wedding." Not Evert. Stoffel, maybe? "Yes, it was rainy, but what does water mean, after all, but life?" Ah. Raven. "Life and hope, and hope is what I'm carrying now. I'm so proud to see my baby look so resplendent." She smiled at me and I could feel a crack in the atmosphere when she took to ad-libbing. "When he was quite little and still liked things like tea parties, I'd hear twice a day that one of his toys was marrying another, or that he was going to marry Anissina because she'd set fire to him if he didn't. He lost interest after a while, and next he even had to think about it was when he stood up in my wedding with Lord Weller." She was. She was going to tell this story. "That was when little Gwen never got excited about anything. Hmm, he might not be out of that phase now! Just teasing, Gwen. But he did work so hard and so earnestly to look nice in the wedding. And so Gwen comes down with an _awful_ case of the sniffles—did I mention he had allergies back then? And doesn't tell a soul. So he comes up to me with the engagement gift all-bleary eyed and trying not to sneeze and I suppose doesn't notice that a rosebush has grown a bit onto the stage. We had the loveliest garden wedding. Anyway, Gwendal's foot got caught and he managed to topple himself headfirst into the roses. From then on I was sure he'd be terribly awkward on his own wedding day, but he's done beautifully. And I hope he and Dirk will be most delightfully happy together."

"There's a sword hung on the wall behind us if you'd like to fall on it," muttered my husband sympathetically.

"It'd take too long to die." Some situations crossed all boundaries, and maternal humiliation was one.

Mother then picked up again what she'd agreed to say and finished blandly, a humiliation sandwich on two slices of banality. My only comfort was that Dirk and I were apparently not intended to speak. Listening to him attempting to stumble through oration would probably be about as awful as giving one myself.

After the speeches came a few family traditions, the inscribing of my name in a large, impressive book, the introduction of an artist who'd be charged with our portrait, and a pair of matching Augustine lockets for the newlyweds. They were oval and made from silver, so they could have been far more gruesome, and each contained a miniature. I noticed over Dirk's shoulder that the picture in his locket looked a lot more like my father than like me. I'd never actually sat for a portrait in my life. They must have extrapolated.

Finally, after all this nonsense, the meal was served to the lower tables. This removed some of the onus from my black mood and tied tongue. There was enough on the table that a person might want to eat, once I'd reached around the whole deer and the peacock stuffed with duck. My mother-in-law, as I realized with a start I'd never even seen her before, seemed to sympathize and pushed bread and grapes and suchlike in my direction. Dirk's sister and my mother were great conversationalists, and my new husband seemed almost as dull as I was. We both sat rather still and quite silent as the whole hall buzzed around us.

My eyes, no matter what I did, flickered to Gunter. Sometimes I afforded myself a real excuse, peeking around my wine glass as I took a sparing sip, a dab with the napkin. Sometimes I simply forgot myself. I wanted to see him up close. He was one of the only people I knew, quite aside from my undying, devoted, forever forsworn love, who made his formal clothes look splendid. He never happened to look up when I did, engaged in light conversation or talking more solemnly to Giesella. Rather often, Anissina looked up. The first few times she stuck her tongue out at me. After that, she just rolled her eyes.

As the plates were taken away from our wasteful, silly dinner, the cake was brought out. It was a groom's cake, frosted in chocolate and smelling of brandy from five paces. I didn't want to eat it any more than I would have a seven tiered lace confection, but at least it looked a bit more tasteful. Dirk and I cut the first slice together, which led to our first real conversation since the ceremony.

"The handle's too short."

"No, my hand goes over yours."

"Oh. Sure." Dirk shifted so we could both stand reasonably near the cake. "Big piece?"

"Do you _want_ to eat a big piece?"

"Yes."

"Then go ahead."

I didn't foresee things being much more civil in the future. At least I managed to get only the least sliver for myself. Serving the cake took quite a while, during which time I answered my new little sister-in-law's very pertinent question about my middle name and watched Gunter a bit more. Just as the remains of the cake were being carted back up the aisle, he looked back up at me. Despite the crowd, our eyes met and held, and I borrowed a little of his strength. Perhaps I even gave him something back. I liked to think so.

Next came the gifts. Just the big ones. The gifts from small fiefdoms and landless knights were too numerous. There were nine packages to open, one from each great family but Voltaire. I might have presented myself a gift just to be perverse, but I hadn't thought of it.

Most of the presents were unmemorable. A golden set of fountain pens and inkwell, a large volume of poetry, gold-plated harness bells, handsome and expensive knick-knacks. I saved two for last, Von Karbelnikoff and Von Christ.

Anissina's present exploded. It was so very much what I expected it was refreshing. I was sure for once she'd built it to do just that. Once the smoke cleared, she stood on a chair to explain to me that, "Mr. Attentive Housekeeper monitors and deeply comprehends the state of your home from rafters to floorboards and punishes the owner severely for discrepancies in cleaning."

"It blows up if it's dusty?"

"Don't be so simple." She hit me with a soup spoon. "It fires a projectile. That was a minor malfunction just now. I'll show you how it works after tonight." In a moment of pure irrationality, I hugged her. She looked as startled as I did for a moment and patted my shoulder. "A plague, planned assassination, a cave in, and _finally_ we see you in a crisis!" she whispered, only a little gleefully.

Dirk raised an eyebrow and opened the last gift before I could claim the privilege. The box itself was quite handsome, dark wood carved with simple geometric patterns, the sort of thing one might find in the Voltaire household. Gunter, I guessed, was the sort of person who reveled in picking out the perfect gift for the recipient. I knew it would be a trifle, as my real wedding gift waited in the stables, a jewel among horses.

The box contained a jewel of its own, one I immediately recognized. It was the lump of reddish crystal that Gunter had tried to tug out of the wall and dropped us into a labyrinth of caves in pursuit of. It was now wrapped with copper wire and set in a clawed silver base. It hadn't been cut except where the base was affixed. It was _beautiful_.

"Oh, my, Gunter!" Mother was watching us and had crowed over every gift but Anissina's, for which she'd wisely stood a comfortable ten feet back. "What a lovely conversation piece that would make. Is it an Augustine?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, it's my own. The base is from a broken lamp, but…" He trailed off, looking embarrassed for some reason.

"It's beautiful. Thank you." I took his hand and smiled for the first time that day. I'd be sure to liberate this one from Dirk's house and put it somewhere prominent in my bedroom. The crystal reflected light from the banquet hall's windows in thick blotches and strange orangey-red tones, throwing miniature sunsets all over the room. Gunter squeezed my hand back and returned my smile. His hand was cool on mine and his fingers brushed my wrist. It tickled a bit, and I mentally added it to the long list of places I wanted him to kiss me.

There was a thin bandage around his thumb. "What happened?"

"I perhaps shouldn't be let to use a rock saw unsupervised." He glanced at the crystal and looked sheepish. "Don't apologize, please."

He was right. I had been about to. "I wasn't going to. It's a wonderful gift and I'll treasure it always." One doesn't expect to say such things and mean them, but I did. Anissina threw an olive pit at me and I realized I'd been standing still and holding Gunter's hand for far too long, while the entire room watched. Perhaps I wasn't so subtle as I thought I was.

Servants were coming up to clear away the dessert and the big banquet tables, replacing them with small, circular tea tables that seemed to be made from metal leaves. I was more interested in watching a legion of help carry out drinks and finger foods than in Lord Rochefort's self satisfied introduction of the musicians, reciting the vintage of the various wines, and inviting everyone watch the new couple's first dance.

By new boots were a bit stiff, and I was glad to hear a soft song being played, a sentimental ballad that went on for an inordinate number of verses. As a wedding song it had no fault but being bland. The guests found flimsy chairs or leaned against the walls. From the light, I realized it wasn't long until sunset. That speech must have gone on longer than I'd thought.

All this I noted in the long moment before I had to take Dirk's hand and walk out onto the floor. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. Our gloves meant I didn't actually have to touch him just yet. His hands were bigger than mine, and he was taller, and I felt boxed in, even as we stopped in the center of the floor. I met his eyes. It would have been worse to try and avert mine for the whole of the dance.

"You look nice," he said as he wrapped his arm around my waist and took my hand.

I never had known how to take a compliment, sincere or otherwise. Two heartbeats went by before I could think of even the most banal reply to make. "Um, so do you." Against all reason, instinct told me he really was trying to make amends. Had something I'd said to him really made it through?

I'd expected him to tread on my toes, slip his hands low, and have garlic and wine on his breath, just because it would have fit well with the rest of the day. I was pleasantly surprised, though I didn't know what to make of it, to find he was a better dancer than I was and gentlemanly enough, though the eyes of the crowd surely had something to do with that.

"I really do think… blue eyes are alright." Somewhere in his not very active brain, he was struggling to be understood. I felt more pity than anything else at this point.

For the first time, I took a real look at him. His hair was a very deep indigo I could see he took from his mother, but oddly his eyes were golden. Striking. His family colors weren't very flattering, but he was a handsome young man. He managed to look well enough. I groped for something fair to say in return. "Gold are more impressive." Just echoing his compliments back at him might do.

I had a brief picture of myself, had things gone differently, trying to court Gunter. I didn't think I'd be quite so pathetic, but maybe it was better that I'd never had a chance.

"Well, nice of you to say so." And again we lapsed into silence. I was beginning to feel irrationally trapped, not just metaphysically but as though manacles were about to close around my ankles. All day I'd been so perfectly passive, and it was starting to set my teeth on edge.

And it was I who stepped on his feet, doing absolute wonders for my already cowering ego. It took all my force of will not to shove myself away from him when the song ended. The next dance was with our mothers, during which time she babbled. It was a familiar, easy sound, mother's babbling. When I stepped on _her_, she kicked me. I danced with each of my brothers, Anissina, Josak, and Giesella in quick succession, and by then I was tired and my back profoundly protested being hunched over for the sake of most of my partners all that time.

Anissina was the only one to dance worse than I. And I was fairly sure she was being sarcastic about it.

I glanced at my husband, satisfied myself that he had a partner for the next dance, and awarded myself a break. The whicker and wire chairs set up around the dance floor weren't comfortable, but my feet were beginning to really hurt. As I seemed to be the only one at the party who hadn't had a drink yet, judging from a glance around the room, I helped myself from a decanter of mediocre red wine and just watched for a bit.

Someone sat across from me. I looked over as casually as could be, hoping to see Gunter, but instead it was Dirk. "You look exhausted."

"I didn't sleep well." Attempting to be polite I poured him a glass of wine as well. "Was your partner called away?"

"Her little sister had too much cake." He shrugged. "It's getting dark."

"Yes." Small talk wasn't a natural skill of mine.

"Songs are going to start soon."

"…We're doing that?" It was a tradition that had fallen out of favor. Friends of the couple who happened to be musically inclined, or thought they were, would present whatever lyric ballad struck them as pertinent. It was, I had always imagined, painful for the listener and often the performer, too. Still, if Dirk's friends presented their contributions and mine didn't, it would just pile on one more humiliation for the day.

"Mother's idea. She's old fashioned. It won't be too many. One of my cousins, my sister, and a friend of mine in the guard is all." Three dedicated artistic performances to the pledge of our marriage by his family and friends. Dreadful.

What did he expect from this? Want from this? Dirk might be an empty-headed lout, but he was younger than I, perfectly entitled to expect some degree of happiness and companionship, even in a political marriage. With a plague and my rather cowardly, sanity-saving retreat back home between our engagement and hasty wedding, we hadn't had any time for the barest logistics. I didn't even know where I was expected to live. Little as I'd enjoy engaging the pest in conversation, the moment this party disbanded we needed a long, involved talk.

"Do you want to dance again?"

I winced. "Certainly." Telling him I'd rather be eaten by dragons seemed impolitic. The children at the party, beginning to be profoundly bored, had assembled in a sort of dance circle. One of those delightfully spontaneous instances of childhood glee led the circle to form around us as Dirk and I began our second, even more awkward dance. I kept glancing at Wolfram, who looked on the edge of a terrible temper tantrum. I forgot myself and we exchanged a grimace of shared, if not equal, disgust. Dirk looked rather hurt, and I was honestly sorry. Not enough to say anything, but sorry.

He looked as relieved as I did when the song ended, but before we could retreat from the mutually disheartening experience, his sister's wedding song was announced. We didn't have to dance, but we did have to go and stand beside the raised dais, listen, and smile. She was a competent singer with execrable taste, or perhaps she just didn't care much for her brother. Her song was an atonal, inane ballad with all the lyrical depth of… well, my relationship with my husband. Perhaps it was apt after all.

Dirk's cousin picked a traditional wedding song, less unpleasant on the ears, but it made me blush slightly. I couldn't help thinking about what could have been as I stood beside Dirk, hand-in-hand, and smiled painfully at the singers and the crowd.

His friend from the guard was a bit deep in his cups and ought to have warned the mothers of small children about his choice. Even Dirk looked a bit uncomfortably at the bawdy barroom song, and I must have been quite red. I knew I could feel warmth pressing uncomfortably at my cheeks. Every insinuation echoed off the vaulted ceilings for what seemed an eternity, even after he finished, several beats ahead of the musicians.

I expected to be allowed to go back to my table, but was more shocked than I ought to have been to see Anissina ascending the stage. Anissina could not sing. This had been established so long, so inarguably, that she'd _embraced_ it, the rare fault she admitted to. She was toting a long, rectangular case. This could only end as well as any of her strange performances, but now I was glad.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court and of Rochefort's holdings!" she cried, swinging out her arm and shoving aside the hapless retainer who had been announcing the singers. "I would love nothing better than to take an opportunity to give my lifelong friend's marriage all the pomp and circumstance it is due." Anissina wasn't usually one for backhanded insults. Her insults were direct right hooks. But I did enjoy that one. "However, the shorter of the grooms has informed me on countless occasions that when I try to sing, rumors fly around the neighborhood that crows are being tortured." A few uncertain laughs ensued, but even those who'd never met her shied instinctively from Anissina's wrath. "So, in the interest of preserving the sensibilities of the lords and ladies tonight, I have taken the unorthodox step of arranging a wedding _duet_."

I must have been tired. I had no idea what she was planning until Gunter was actually onstage. I only realized then that I hadn't seen him since dinner. Someone happened to light a lamp behind his gift right as he took his place. His robes briefly glowed a dusky ruby, his hair glowed like a dying sun, and his skin took on the sheen of a fire opal. As the servant hastily moved the crystal away, his color returned to its pristine norm, though he still glowed for me. His cheeks were slightly pink. Gunter was always a careful dresser, but I was close enough to tell he'd poured even more effort into his appearance. Not a hair out of place, white and dusty rose robes accented by silver.

No one further than I from the stage could have spotted the little comb tucked into his hair, prettily carved and lacquered, bronze-plated and set with the greenest jade. It had belonged to my grandmother, who'd given it to Anissina in lieu of a female descendent of her own. (Grandmother had never had much use for me.) It was a Voltaire heirloom, and seeing it tucked into his hair gave me my first understanding of the phrase 'butterflies in the stomach."

Anissina's feet were dangling off the stage. She was wearing combat boots under her skirt. I caught her eye as she tuned the mazoku-infused sitar she'd brought along. She was visibly taken aback when I smiled at her. For once, I couldn't pretend to be displeased. I was sure she'd not told Gunter of the comb's history, but it still warmed something inside me that had been quite iced over.

I would have been happy at their choice of song even had this not been a beautiful spectacle designed by my two dearest friends to shore my spirits and save me face. It was a sweet traditional air, insipid, perhaps, but honest. And, oh! His _voice_. To a more sophisticated musician than myself, Gunter's performance was probably lacking technically correctness, and he didn't match Anissina's playing very precisely. I didn't care. I'd have listened forever. He was singing to me, and if his voice had a bit of an odd huskiness to it (perhaps he had a cold), that merely made it more endearing, lovelier for the imperfection.

"Through wood and glade I wander

Gathering blossoms as I go.

I'll bring them to my lord

That his heart he may bestow.

Shall I bring him roses

Or lilacs for his hair?

But the finest bloom of all

Is the love that we two share."

I couldn't help grinning like a fool. Gunter knew as well as anyone there was no love to be found in our ersatz affair, that Dirk and I had not the least affection for each other, but to hear him sing you'd be sure there was love in the room. And of course there was. I'd never loved him quite as I did at that moment, grateful as I was, enchanted by his performance, and feeling oddly protected, if only from a small embarrassment. It was the first thing anyone had done for me to save some of the ignobility of my wedding day, after all.

The guests gave him the same polite applause as the other three. The clapped rather louder when Anissina took her bow. Probably out of terror.

Gunter was very pink. Before I could get to him, Mother caught him, and I could hear her teasing him from a long ways off. I turned to Dirk, hoping I could get to him soon.

"You were right. That could have been much worse." I held out a hand, feeling I could deal with him now. I was strengthened, and the musicians were beginning another song. "Shall we dance again?"

"No, thank you. I'm still worn out." He turned rather abruptly and went off to a refreshment table. Bemused, I blinked after him for a moment until Anissina caught my hand and dragged me onto the floor.

"I'd forgotten all about that comb," I said. "Where has it been?"

"The bottom of a drawer, to be perfectly honest. I had a thought to the effect that you'd want him to have it."

"Yes. Thank you. But it's been yours for decades, so it was your gift."

"If you insist, I'll take the credit. Try and look more lively. Everyone knows you don't want to be here, but you're being ridiculous."

"Have we been civil too each other too long? I'm sorry. I'd have been happy to start the argument if I'd been watching the clock."

"Don't be stupid, Gwen. If you don't want to be _the_ subject to gossip over for the next few weeks at least, have a little sense."

I spun her a little too hard. "I've determined already I'm insufficiently interesting."

She drove her heel into my toe and leaned in close. "I never thought I'd see what happens when _you_ throw a tantrum, but this may just be it."

"How much do you expect a man to take?"

"You, more than most. But for Shinou's sake, Gwendal, take a little bit more unless you want all your own misery to be for nothing, since you've insisted on suffering all this time."

I still didn't know what she was driving at, but it was keeping Anissina serious and mostly nonviolent for more than six seconds. I nodded and we were quiet for the rest of the dance. I sat one out, danced again with my husband in strained conversation, about what I couldn't say. I went for a drink, almost despairing of catching Gunter for a moment, when suddenly there was a soft hand on my arm.

"May an old friend ask for a dance?" He smiled at me almost shyly, setting his glass down. "We seem to have missed each other too often."

"I could hardly miss you seldom enough." It was out before I'd thought about it, perhaps thanks to the wine I'd just been sipping. I hoped it sounded like a bland pleasantry. "I'd be happy to."

I noticed as he took my hand that he wasn't wearing gloves. Following my eyes, he looked chagrined. "Giesela spilled coffee on them. I thought it better to be unfashionable than slovenly."

It was ridiculous to feel my heart speed up because there was one less layer of cloth between us. We'd bathed together! But in the stuffy atmosphere of the room, with my new in-laws all around waiting to pull me down into their intrigues, this tiny detail lightened the burden. "I've never cared a great deal about fashion," I replied quietly, and wound my arm around his waist.

I much preferred leading in a dance. Dirk was a head taller than I, Anissina insisted on leading to make some point or other, and dancing with a succession of children meant just making do. I felt much surer this way, breathed easier. There was no sense of claustrophobia. Just Gunter pressed against me, his hand in mine, our hearts beating together.

"You've been very quiet today. You've every right to, but you really _must_ try to show a brave face, Gwen." I nodded. Sage advice. Coming from Anissina it hadn't seemed nearly so important. "He hasn't offered you any new insult?" Gunter continued.

I shook my head. "He's been polite. I think he has enough sense to make amends. He can't like the idea of my quietly hating him for the next few centuries." I was leading, but Gunter was guiding me. He let me borrow some of his grace, steering my steps. He trusted that I'd follow the slightest direction of his hand, the least little push. I couldn't help thinking of directing a well-behaved horse. O happy horse, to bear the weight of Gunter!

I smiled a bit at my unspoken romantic flair and he gave me a quizzical look. "Found something to hearten you?"

"Hardly. I've been moving from mood to mood so rapidly I don't know what I think. I can't tell you how many times I've resolved to leave childhood and all these petty, flimsy feelings behind. But every time I resolve on a course I step right off the path."

"That, dear friend, is called life." Gunter took a particularly long, graceful step to pull us out of the way of Conrart dancing with Josak. I noticed only as our steps became regular again that I'd followed him without the slightest stumble. In another life, I could have kept turning with him, lifted his light body without much effort, and dropped his weight onto my arm so I could kiss him hard and deep. I imagined it for a moment, relishing the shocked whispers that would begin, Anissina's laugh, and Gunter's cool, soft lips yielding slowly to mine, and let it go.

"Maybe you're right. I just wish I were half as clever as I think I am."

"I wish you thought yourself half as clever as you are." He shook his head fondly, pulling me just a little to the right. My long coat and his flowing robe twined together for a moment, tangled by momentum, and pulled us a little closer. "How dreadful was my performance?"

"It was perfectly flawless. And thank you. You and Anissina were the only ones tonight who tried to help… And you did it wonderfully." I was determined to get him to sing for me again, should it take years.

"I'm sure that your mother would if she knew how, Raven if he dared, your uncle if he could realize he'd like to. And didn't Wolfram drop that book on your groom's toe?"

"No, he missed. But you're right. It was a good try." The music was rising now, or maybe that was just me. The floor was crowded. The wine had flowed freely and now that it was really dark, people were losing themselves in the party, not just the occasion. Gunter and I had to move close and carefully, and it was splendid. In the midst of so large a crowd, we were still alone. My earlier claustrophobia was forgotten, so long as my close quarters were shared with the man I loved.

Gunter smiled at me. "In any case, you're too kind. I took voice lessons when I was young, but only because my parents had always loved music, and I was hopeless at any instrument. I can barely carry a tune."

"You carried it well." I pulled him a bit to the side this time, avoiding a lady's very high heel. "And your gift was far too splendid. After you already gave me Gyre…"

"Don't contest my right to give my friend all the wedding gifts I see fit. I was honestly afraid you'd not see the charm of that crystal. I did get us trapped underground for it, after all." He looked shy.

"Trapped underground with you. I'd have missed a… wonderful adventure without it." I didn't think I'd used the word adventure, outside the context of reading to Wolfram, in years. "It'll always be one of my greatest treasures." Gunter could look so young and fragile sometimes, and I had to admit I loved being able to make his face light up with that simple promise.

"It puts me in mind of you, Gwendal. I broke off a piece while I was setting the stone in the base." He reached under his collar and pulled out a slender chain. An irregular fragment of red crystal, wrapped in the same wire, dangled from his fingers for a moment before he tucked it back. "It _was_ an adventure, wasn't it?"

It definitely wasn't my imagination. The music was rising, faster now. This likely happened all the time, and I lacked the ear to notice or the skill in dancing to respond. With Gunter as my guide, our steps perfectly mirrored the beat. For the last minute of the dance, we didn't speak anymore, simply matching each other's steps, Gunter gently directing my movements, I pulling him along. There was strength and delicacy in our dance in those last moments, a strange comingling of eddying wind and solid earth. I twirled him in my arms and he ruled my every step.

As the music fell I realized we were both a bit hot and Gunter's perfect couture was slightly (becomingly) awry. I reached out and adjusted the comb that glittered in his upswept hair. "I… I'd better get back to my husband."

He opened his mouth and closed it again. Gunter nodded. "I suppose you'd better. Thank you for my dance."

I caught his hand for a moment, but I had nothing to say. I tried to pass it off with a smile and a squeeze. "Thank you." He nodded and left me. I couldn't watch him work his way over the dance floor, dodging my way past the guests myself. I caught a glimpse as I emerged by the refreshment tables. He picked up a sleepy looking Giesela and moved her onto his back. She was a well grown girl and he was such a slight thing. Though I knew he was far stronger than he seemed, it was a touching picture.

Before I found Dirk I stumbled upon Wolfram asleep on two chairs pushed together. I carried him to the high table and deposited him on Mother's lap, disrupting her conversation with the Ladies Gyllenhaal and Radford.

"Gwen, be a dear and watch him?"

"Getting married Mother. Remember?"

"Oh, where's Raven gotten to?" She pouted, but I didn't see him and refused to take Wolfram off her hands. I'd have liked to, but I'd avoided my husband enough. When I turned around, Dirk was behind me. He was very stealthy for his size.

"He's a cute little guy." He passed me a glass of wine. I shouldn't have, but it was getting later, drawing close to the eleventh hour.

"He is." My sweet little Wolfram was always worth talking about. If it hadn't been for Gunter, my brothers would have had all my heart, and Conrart didn't need me so much anymore. "A right brat sometimes. But cute."

"Funny how none of you look anything alike."

"Wolfram looks like Mother, and Conrart and I are both our respective fathers all over again." Small talk. No hostility, nothing recriminating or insidious. Another tiny step forward. Though it was strange to think that, had I not done the right thing, Wolfram would be the one marrying this halfwit.

"Little brothers are always brats, anyway. Just ask my sister."

I managed a thin smile. He was trying. He and I talked for a while longer, and finished off a decanter of wine between us. It seemed we'd both lost our enthusiasm for dancing. The conversation wasn't memorable but that it happened, that it went on for some time and I didn't feel particularly like I wanted to strangle my husband.

A room full of increasingly drunken nobles continued to darken around us, but even as we completely ran out of things to say, neither Dirk nor I realized what time it was until the gong sounded. We both started, and he grinned, restoring me to all the perverse pleasure of my original hatred. He took my hand and we headed toward the stairs, bedecked with greenery and gold ribbon for the occasion. I'd not even noticed before. I hadn't noticed much today.

We had trouble forcing our way through the crowd. Every wedding guest was in front of the stairs, wanting to cheer us on our way up. At least there weren't any speeches at this stage. I amused myself imagining what our parents would say. My mother would have no trouble. _"I've always been absolutely sure my little Gwennie would go to his marriage bed untouched. The awkward little thing couldn't even stand to hear kisses in his bedtime reading until he was close to forty. Can you imagine?"_ Dirk's father, I liked to imagine, would somehow manage to go on for fifteen minutes about it. Dirk waved and smiled at the crowd. When he bowed, I was dragged along too, my face burning, stomach tied in a nauseous knot. I couldn't see Gunter. He must have taken Giesela off to bed before this always humiliating spectacle. It was only proper, but I'd have liked one last sight of him before I went up those stairs.

The gong was smashed again. It was big enough to make the whole room reverberate and I only wanted to get away from the noise and eyes and cheers, get it over with. I turned very quickly and Dirk came with me, leading me up the stairs.

The chanting crowd didn't get any quieter as we went up three flights and turned down a hallway. I could still hear them even when the door of Dirk's room closed behind him. It was revoltingly prepared. I doubted my husband was responsible for the rose petals on the bed, yet another bottle of wine on the nightstand, the basket of chocolate and scented oil in pretty bottles. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and realized I looked terrified. I tried to hide that, swallowed, wishing my color would return to normal. At the moment I was pale as a ghost and sweating as though a fever had struck.

Dirk smiled at me, and it was more like the smirk I'd gotten to know so well when we'd first met. I _hoped_ I was keeping my face neutral. "I knew you'd be tense. Come and sit on the bed." I walked behind him and obeyed. He opened the bottle. More wine? I was tipsy already, but maybe it would help. I turned to look at him in the hopes of steeling myself and he pressed a chocolate to my lips. I _hated_ chocolate.

It was already there. I chewed quickly and swallowed. As I sipped as delicately as I could make myself, his hand ran over my hair. His fingers worked out the pendant mother had fit there, a piece I suddenly realized was a match for the comb Gunter had worn. I had to sit stiffly to keep from shuddering as he pulled my hair loose and it fell around my shoulders. He leaned in and nuzzled, breathing in deeply.

"You smell like sandalwood."

Though I knew I couldn't, my mind insisted I still heard cheering from downstairs. "I do? Oh. Yes." Cologne. Never wore the stuff usually.

"It suits you." Dirk shrugged off his jacket. I used the moment to pour myself another glass. I shied away from his fingers on the buttons of my coat, then forced myself to stay still, and to set aside the cup. That didn't matter. The night's libations had caught up with me and I was beginning to be as woozy as I was frightened.

"I didn't realize."

In answer, he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't as bad as the first time, but still revolting. I decided to unbutton my shirt myself. I'd rather maintain a little control. The air in the room was cooler than I thought, but he seemed enthused and pressed against me, the little comfort lost. And when had his shirt been lost?

I really shouldn't have had so much wine. My head was out of place, my vision a bit blurred, my stomach churning. Yet I couldn't escape the scene, couldn't forget what was going on. I'd made myself ill, sloppily, disgracefully drunk without even the satisfaction of escape.

"Gwen." My name on his lips made me wince, and he kissed lower, my neck and shoulders. I couldn't repress a little shudder then. He paused, but moved on, his hands lower. I was naked before I knew what had happened. Every second I was fighting the urge to twist away, to gasp and shudder and sob.

His weight was on me. No more escape. I just wanted him to get it over with, but when he kissed me again I did cry out. Despite my best efforts, but it was only a little sound.

He stopped and sighed. My eyes snapped back open, and only then did I realize they'd been screwed shut. Dirk rolled off without another word, lying down on the other side of the bed.

I half sat up. "You… we are married, I mean…"

"Shut up, Blue Eyes." He threw a small pillow at me. "Shut up and go to sleep."

I wiped my eyes and breathed deeply. I hadn't been breathing, had I? "Thank you."

"I told you to be quiet, stupid." He pulled the blanket over his head and I settled down, as far from him as I could get on the bed. Despite the maelstrom of relief and disgust that still spun in my stomach, I was asleep in moments.

**Author's Note:** Gunter's song at the wedding is from Jane and the Dragon, a simply marvelous children's show. This chapter also contains a Shakespearean allusion. See if you can find it! Otherwise, yeah, Gwendal hates me for what I put him through.


	10. Prince Charming

**Note:** _Did I just give you a heart attack with this update? Go ahead, raise your hand. Right after finishing the last chapter, I came down ill for three days, too sick to go to the lab and too sleepy and feverish to crunch all those tiny numbers in the data sets I take home. So apparently that's just the mindset to churn off several thousand words' worth of Gwendal angst. Apparently I can write this much in three days, as long as my immune system is going mad and I don't eat. _

_This is pretty much completely a character chapter. No plot at all. And it has many moments of "Gwen, stop being a moron!" But I can't help that. I just write the guy. I hope you all enjoy this meandering interlude that came of my attack of influenza or whatever it was._

When I woke, my head pounded, my husband was snoring, and I was terribly hot. The bedspread was much too heavy for this weather, but I'd rolled myself up in it pretty tightly. When I'd fallen asleep, after all, I hadn't even known where my clothes were. And I'd lain half paralyzed, afraid to move, afraid that if I woke Dirk he'd reverse his decision.

He was firmly asleep now. I lifted my head a little to look for my clothes. Instead I saw two robes hanging beside the bed, one light blue and the other dark green. Very quickly I slipped out of bed and snatched the green one. The pocket bore _Dirk's_ initials. Had I the least interest in being married to him, that would be sort of sweet. As it was, I didn't think I cared for powder blue. And it required another very quick movement between the bed and the hook. At least it was long.

Dressed, or close to it, I walked to the window. It was too bright for comfort, but I wanted to see this new home even if my head hurt. The Rochefort province, like mother's, was verdant and rich, a pretty paradise of a country, at least around the manor. I took in the view as I straightened my hair with my fingers. I didn't want to go rummaging for a brush. Beyond the walls was a small town and a large pasture full of sheep. Beyond that were woods and hills that rolled off into the distance until they were but a purple smear on the horizon. Inside the grounds of the manor, the gardens were well-tended and tasteful. I'd like to see it all while I was here, however long that would prove to be.

When I turned around, unsure how long I'd been gazing out the window, I found Dirk gazing at me. I started and felt myself color again. He _hadn't_ bothered to snatch his robe, and had already thrown the blankets aside. I kept my eyes on his face. "How does your head feel?"

"Pretty lousy. You?"

"I could use coffee." I walked back to the bed. It didn't feel like penance now, though I was nervous. "Thank you. For last night."

"Don't worry about it." He sighed and say back on the bed. "I have plenty. This marriage is politics, and it's not like there's any way they can confirm it's been consummated."

"No bloody sheets?" I chanced a small smile. "You… don't have to."

"Like I said, I'm not going without." He looked afraid I'd challenge him on that, but all I did was smile. Whatever the source, what a relief. "You are cute though, Blue Eyes." That seemed in the way to become a pet name. I'd never had one before. It was an odd feeling. "If you change your mind, let me know."

"I will."

"But you won't." He pulled on his robe slowly. "It's Von Christ, right?"

I breathed in sharply. "I…"

"You're pretty damn obvious." He threw a pillow at me. "So you're the monogamous type. If Dad hadn't come up with this you'd probably have married him, I figure."

"Maybe. We… aren't on such terms as you seem to think."

He rolled his eyes. I didn't think he believed me. I wished he were right, shamefully. "I'll ring for someone to bring us breakfast if you want."

"Thank you. Do you have a comb I could use?"

"Top drawer." He dealt with a maid while I stared into the mirror and straightened up. I would never have the loving husband I would have wished for, but maybe I'd have a friend. A partner of sorts. He was dim and loutish, but there were worse sins. If I could just get over his painful proposal or how scared I'd been when I'd thought he meant to force himself on me…

I didn't think I could forgive him that, though I suspected now his father had put him up to it. I couldn't bring myself to ask. For the most part, though, we could no doubt be civil. I saw him come up behind me in the mirror but still jumped when he kissed my cheek. It felt chaste and, after the initial shock, wasn't so bad.

"Mom's planning on giving your family a tour this morning. She found out your mother likes gardening too, apparently." He set a tall cup of iced tea in front of me. Better than coffee, really.

"That's kind of her. The grounds are very picturesque." I looked up at him as I sipped. "It looks as though you have beautiful country for riding as well."

"I'm not much of a horseman, but yeah. It's nice. You can go in the afternoon if you want." He pulled up a chair across from me and we shared a breakfast of fruit and flaky pastries. I wasn't very hungry, but the tea helped my hangover. A servant had brought up my trunk from wherever it had been left the day before. Dirk laughed rather uproariously when I couldn't stop myself ducking into the closet to change.

"I mean, at least you have brothers."

"I'm considerably older than either of them. We never shared a nursery." I scowled at him as I buttoned up my vest. It was nice to have my usual clothes back. The formalwear was awfully hot, and my dress boots were very tight around the toes. Coming to a point, by Mother's estimation, was desirable.

"Shall we go and join the household, then?" Dirk stood very straight and tried to look stately.

"You're an idiot, do you know that?"

"Yes, but I can live with it, Blue Eyes. At least I'm not a virgin." He caught my arm, we glared at each other, and shrugged in tandem. Downstairs a huge, buffet-style breakfast for all the remaining guests was underway.

Anissina popped out of nowhere and caught my other arm. "I'm stealing him for just a bit." Dirk nodded and she dragged me off to the side a bit. "How'd it go?"

She looked as gentle and sympathetic as I'd ever known her. I relished that for a moment while I decided whether to tell her. Anissina was quite able to keep a secret, I decided. "It didn't."

For a moment, she was actually quiet. Then she grinned. "Your pathetic cowardice has finally worked in your favor! That's wonderful!"

It was so much easier not to argue. "Yes."

"Anyway, I'm not going to be here much longer. While you've been away it's gotten even worse at court. Stoffel and Evert are at each others' throats vying for control, and the only thing they can work together on is getting rid of those influences of which they do not approve." She looked very prim, imitating my uncle at his most formal, and then suddenly broke the character, cracking her knuckles under her satin gloves. "They're hoping this has disposed of you for a while, so try to get back."

"I'll do my best. I'm trapped here for a few days at the very least."

"Good. My money's on Stoffel. After all, your mother can find herself another swain whenever she likes. She's only got one brother. And he's up to something."

I sighed. "What happened to him?"

"Stoffel? We could say that he's a weak-willed, stupid man and power corrupts, and it's true, but it does oversimplify, doesn't it?" Anissina patted my shoulder. "Maybe you've just grown up. Just because you were the apple of his eye once upon a time…"

"No. He wasn't always a power-grubbing disgrace. I may have been young but I wasn't that blind. Maybe foolish, maybe a bit greedy, but…" I shook my head. This got us nowhere. "Go back. Fight the good fight. I'll join you as soon as I can."

"Fight the good fight? Gwen, you _were_ drunk last night, weren't you?" She gave me a quick hug. "I doubt I'll catch you again. Hang in there. And I'll have some excellent new devices for you to test when you get back to the castle." With that, she gave me a shove and went over to chat with Suzanna Julia while Conrart and Josak sat nearby, looking sulky. At least someone was watching them. I didn't like the chances of two half human children in this crowd.

When I turned around again, I nearly knocked into my mother-in-law. I had yet to actually exchange a word with her. She struck me as a little less aggressive than her husband and a little more sensible than her son, but the impression was fairly baseless. "Hello, Gwendal. I'm sorry I didn't quite catch you at last night's party. Did Dirk tell you I was hoping to make a tour of the grounds with your mother?"

"Yes, he mentioned. I'm sure she'd be delighted." I bowed slightly. "Should I find her?"

"Please do. And you and your brothers are invited, of course."

There were surely worse ways to spend the morning. I found Mother eating sugary pastries while Raven tried to stop Wolfram gorging on them. "Lady Von Rochefort would like to give our family a tour of her gardens, Mother."

"How nice of her! It sounds simply fantastic, dear." She stood and beamed up at me. "Could you collect the boys, then?"

"Wolfram's right here," I reminded her. She was being exceptionally flighty lately. I liked to think it was her way of expressing distress at my marriage, but I wasn't sure. I picked him up in the middle of a bite of swan-shaped cake.

"Gwen! Not fair!"

"You're giving yourself a stomach ache, and you'll be cranky all day." I set him on the floor. "We're going to fetch Conrart and Josak and go look at flowers." Wolfram whined, but he took my hand and walked along. Raven came with as well.

Never a man of many words, he simply put his arm around my shoulders, squeezed, and whispered, "You'll be alright." I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

Conrart and Josak were at the age when looking at flowers was a punishment, but I glared them into behaving though I was ashamed of myself for it. I didn't want them to be pawns in any of these games, even now when all that was at risk was a relationship with in-laws I already disliked.

"I'll take you both out for some swordplay after dinner if you're still here. How's that?" I wasn't very good at bribery, but they assented, and in short order we all went out to admire the park.

Even Conrart and Josak admitted it was pretty, and Mother was very impressed. The flowers were mixed so every bed was an explosion of color. Fountains and little streams dotted the grounds, the latter marked by delicate little bridges. Lady Von Rochefort informed us that even outside the walls she oversaw the landscaping, and there was a ten-mile circuit that showed off all the delights of the country. Then, of course, she suggested I take a carriage out with her son to see it, spoiling the idea for me. Mother promised to come back and take the tour when she was at leisure, though.

About twenty minutes into our walk, Wolfram tugged on my hand. "My tummy hurts. I want to go inside."

"I did warn you." I picked him up. "You're enjoying yourself, Mother. I'll take him."

"Try and catch us up, Gwen." She waved at me. I couldn't help rolling my eyes. Was she going to behave herself at any point before she left me here? Part of me still wanted to say goodbye to my mother, and maybe to be comforted by her.

"I told you you'd make yourself sick." Perhaps Mother's indifference had made me a bit more snappish than I should have been. Wolfram looked hurt. "Well… You'll know better next time."

"Oh, I'm fine. I just wanted to steal you away for a while."

I couldn't help smiling. "Why, you insidious little brat." I put him down. If he wasn't suffering from too many treats, he could walk. "And where are you stealing me too?"

"In there." He pointed to a little white gazebo overgrown with morning glories. It was cool inside with a smooth stone bench to sit on. Wolfram climbed onto my lap. "Why did you marry him?"

"It's been explained to you, Wolfram." Not by me. I hadn't been able to bring myself to speak to him on the subject. "It will stop fights from breaking out among the nobles so Mother can rule without worrying."

"Then why won't anyone talk to me about it?"

"It's… it's not really a subject for someone your age. It's complicated and it's not pretty. Try not to worry, hmm?" I patted him on the head, but he shoved my hand away and jumped off my lap.

"You're a liar, Gwendal!" He was practically shouting, jabbing a finger at me while a few errant sparks glittered around his eyes. "I'm not stupid! I can listen at doors as well as Conrart and I know my own big brother! Don't you treat me like a baby!"

Oh. I was too taken aback to make much of a reply. "I… didn't want you worrying…"

"You didn't want me to know that you saved me? Again? I don't even get to say thank you or tell you no?"

"Wolfram, you're much too young to understand what this would have meant for you…"

"There you go, thinking I'm stupid again. Maybe I wouldn't have been happy, but you're not happy either. Are you gonna just take care of me forever?"

"Wolfram, I'd love to." I knew he wanted to stand on his own. This vague guilt of his turning into anger before my eyes was exactly what I'd expected and exactly the reason I hadn't wanted him to know. "If I could I'd protect you your whole life. Let me do it while I can." I picked him up again and hugged him. He relented and hugged back, reminding me of when he _was_ just a baby. "I'll always take care of you. Remember, I love you more than anyone in the world."

"More than Gunter?"

My head snapped up. "Who told you about that?"

"Conrart. But I knew already." He leaned back and looked up at me with those dangerously sweet eyes. "You want to marry Gunter, and I don't have anyone I want to marry, so it's not fair."

"You will someday, Wolfram." I ruffled his hair. "Promise me that if you marry someone it will be because you love them."

"That's gross! Loving people is gross. How do you do it?"

"When the person you love is brave and caring and beautiful and clever. You'll know someday. Now, promise."

"Okay, fine. I promise." He hooked his little finger with mine. "But I want _you_ to marry Gunter. He gives me cookies and then Giesela would be my niece. I could boss her around."

"I'm afraid that won't happen."

"Can't you unmarry the stupid jerk?"

"I wish I could. It doesn't work that way."

"My father unmarried Mael and Maddox's mommy."

"Different circumstances. Please don't talk about this with anyone, Wolfram. It could cause trouble." He made the little "hmph!" noise he did when he was done arguing but not ready to admit it. "Is that what you stole me for?"

"Not just that. I want you to walk with me, because you're going to be gone for a while. Did you know there are fish in the pond? Big fish. I saw them yesterday while you were getting ready." He led me away, seemingly distracted. I didn't buy it. He had something up his sleeve. He was also so cute and earnest I just about couldn't stand it. Wolfram dragged me across most of the garden that morning, pulling me into hiding if we risked crossing paths with Mother and Lady Von Rochefort.

Wolfram brought me in for lunch when he got bored monopolizing me. I found I had no appetite, which might have had to do with seeing my husband feel up a housemaid on the way inside and having to explain to my brother why I'd covered his eyes. I didn't mind. I really didn't, especially as it kept him off of me, but did he have to be so brazen?

Conrart was the next to corner me, but he did so much more quietly. He came up behind me while I was staring balefully at half a grapefruit. "Mother says you need to eat more or you'll waste away and the wind will blow you to parts unknown."

"Hmm. I'll take it into consideration."

He sat and ate a sandwich, and then turned to me again, extending a little off-white linen square. I took it in mild confusion and saw immediately that Gunter's initials were embroidered in one corner with silver thread. "Conrart!"

"Your old one is getting really worn out."

Did I have a single secret left? "Did you steal this?"

"No, I said I had allergies and he gave it to me. Giesela made him a whole drawer full. Bye." He hopped off the bench and walked off quickly. I could hardly call after him about this. I clearly had no choice but to tuck it into my vest pocket beside the other one where both, I was sure, smelled like sea air and fresh-mown hay.

Immediately after lunch I was thrust into a receiving line, as most of the guests were leaving, including Anissina and my own family. I couldn't say anything like a proper goodbye to those I wished to, and dozens of people I didn't care about in the least required all my civility. In the process, I was hugged by Anissina's brother (idiot), patted on the head by my uncle and Evert (condescending bastards), and quite unable to recall the names of most of my guests. I was also distressed not to see Gunter, and I was sure he'd left without saying goodbye.

I suppose I looked distinctly rattled by the end of it. _I_ knew that being stricken useless by such a simple occasion was quite out of character for me, even worrisome, but my new family didn't. When I told Dirk I thought I'd go on that ride I'd mentioned, he and his mother waved me out the door without comment.

Gyre seemed rather annoyed with me as I saddled him up. He was a horse who liked freedom, who needed good, daily exercise, and I was sure no one had thought to take him out on the wedding day. I apologized with petting and sugar and road out of the grounds.

I would eschew Lady Von Rochefort's grand tour for the day. I just needed to run. I'd even glanced over a map before heading out so I could steer clear of villages. The moment we were clear of the town around the Rochefort home, Gyre and I were away. He ran like the wind, that horse, as any horse from Gunter would have to. He was fiery, but he and I got along. I doubted most horsemen could handle him, but he and I moved as one. I leaned forward into the wind and fled.

My mother had expressed as much affection for me as she might a pair of shoes now gone out of fashion. An uncle I had once loved had become a heartless fool, and with my stepfather was staging a takeover of the country. My love had deserted me. The only ones who seemed to care were my mad surrogate sister and the brothers too young to take care of themselves, let alone me. As Gyre ran I wallowed in feeling sorry for myself and then fled that, too. Nothing but me, my horse, and the wind. A moment's freedom.

Then I heard another horse following. I didn't care to be disturbed, and I was sure I was on no one's land. I was in an open, hilly woodland, and there was nothing to disturb. I turned to see who was intruding on my much needed solitude. I stopped Gyre completely, as being knocked off my horse by a branch would be very much in keeping with the last twenty-four hours.

The horse was a chestnut, and its rider was a vision. He hadn't left me. I couldn't fathom what he was still doing here, but Gunter rode toward me, his hair loose and robes flowing behind him. Our horses, I recalled, were brothers. If there was a match for Gyre in the country, it would be Gunter's pretty mount. I smiled at him, my first real smile in what felt like a long time, and spun Gyre around. He seemed to read my mind, and in a moment we were racing, tearing through the trees and over low bushes, always neck in neck. We stopped by the same unspoken understanding that had started us on top of a low, gorse-covered hill. The horses needed rest.

"I didn't know you were extending your stay."

"Until tomorrow. Giesela and your sister-in-law seem to have taken to one another. I left them working on cross-stitch and gossiping." Mathilda had to be fifty years Giesela's senior, but she was a particularly clever little girl. I didn't wonder.

"I'm glad to see you. I assumed you left this morning."

"Without saying goodbye? Never." He flopped down in the grass and looked up at the cloudy sky. "I've brought a picnic lunch out. Care to share with me?"

"If you have enough." I took the saddlebags from his horse and took it upon myself to spread the meal out when he didn't object. The blanket was more than big enough for two. Two bottles of lemonade, two cheese and tomato sandwiches, two bunches of grapes, and two hard-boiled eggs later, my suspicions were raised. This wasn't only a meal for a picnicking pair, but a meal that indicated a clear inside source on my favorite lunch foods. "Gunter, I am forced to accuse you of not meeting me entirely by accident."

"You caught me." He handed me a folded placemat from last night's dinner. Wolfram's large, still babyish handwriting wandered rather haphazardly over the blank side in orange crayon.

_My big brother is going out for a ride today. You should meet him or he'll be sad._

"I'm going to have to talk to Wolfram about this eavesdropping habit he's cultivating." He was listening at keyholes he really shouldn't if he'd heard me tell Dirk where I was going. "But thank you." I bowed my head and Gunter took my hand.

"I didn't want to have to shake your hand and run out the door." Gunter sat beside me on the blanket. "I might as well tell you now. I've accepted an instructor's appointment at the Military Academy. Officer's school, of course."

"What?" There were so many things awry in that statement. One of the Ten Aristocrats wouldn't teach at the school. There were too many duties elsewhere, and a multiplicity of retired generals and excellent fencing masters waiting for positions there. Gunter wanted to give up his old martial life. And the Academy was a rather inconvenient distance from the capital. He was needed at the court. His daughter needed him. _I_ needed him.

"It was far from voluntary. Anissina must have told you the situation continued to decay in your absence." Gunter colored slightly. I never wanted to see him flush in shame again. "I'm giving up, Gunter. Your uncle suggested very strongly that I take the position. If it were only me… but I can't keep Giesela with me always."

"Stoffel?" Evert I'd have accepted. I hadn't thought him so far gone, but he always had been devoid of feeling where power was concerned. But Stoffel? Anissina must have been right. I had been deluding myself, still believing my uncle to be the bumbling, well-meaning fool I'd known as a child, just led astray somehow.

"Stoffel. Please don't try to talk me out of it. I only hope you can forgive me. I'm abandoning you." He was, and a dark, dismal spark in the pit of my soul hated him for it, but he looked so stricken. I couldn't be very angry. "When you were at court with me, I had a sense, I suppose, that my back was being watched. These last few weeks I've been scared. I'll admit it. Anissina… Anissina helped, but policy's not her forte. I've lost this one."

He looked as though he thought I'd hit him. The last of my ire drained away, perhaps to be redirected at my uncle when I saw him. I passed Gunter his drink and sat beside him. "You need to protect your daughter. And you're too gentle for these games, Gunter."

"That's the sweetest way I've ever been called a coward."

"Hush, and have your lemonade." I pressed the bottle into his hand. "You're no coward. You have your own kind of courage." I sighed, looking off into the sky. "I remember when he had a miniature uniform made for Conrart's coming of age, when he and Raven took me kite flying the day after my father's funeral when I was still inconsolable… It's partially my fault. I never considered him a real threat."

"Love isn't a fault, Gwendal." His eyes narrowed and his voice was low.

"There's nothing more to say about this." I opened my own bottle. "I'll visit you at the Academy."

"No you won't. You'll mean to, but things will come up. I forgive you in advance."

"How gracious." But I would. "But we can't say any more. Let's talk about something else."

He nodded and wiped at his eyes. I'd have offered him a handkerchief, but I only had his, and even in this state he'd surely have noticed. "You seem in fair spirits, Gwen. Did he… treat you better than we expected?"

"Nothing happened." I managed a crooked smile. "He's willing to slake his lusts elsewhere." A bit bitter, perhaps? Though I didn't want him to touch me, petulantly, I disliked the reminder that I wasn't tempting enough that it bothered him.

"That's…" Gunter clearly didn't know how to react. "Unexpected."

"Neither of us wants to be married. This way, maybe we can be friends." I took a bite from my sandwich. "It could be much worse."

"I'm glad?" He cocked an eyebrow at me. "This is what you want?"

"It's the closest I'll get to what I want." Right here. Right now. On a blanket under a warm, lazy sky, alone on a hill with Gunter. I was close enough to touch my real desire. Damn my honor. Damn my prudence. Damn a face so plain it didn't particularly draw even a lecher, hopeless inexperience, and a toxic personality.

Once again I almost reached out to him. I almost caught him and pressed my lips to his. There could be no more perfect place, this abandoned hilltop and this beautiful day, no one for miles to see us.

"I don't know how to argue with you." He shrugged and took another bite. "It's pretty country. A lot like home for me, actually."

"That's right, you're one province over."

"With Gyllenhaal between us, yes. Not exactly close, but this part of Shin Makoku is very uniform. And no offense to your mountains, but it's the loveliest to me." Gunter smiled dreamily. "Visit me at home sometime, Gwendal."

I blinked a bit stupidly. "Is that a standing invitation?"

"Indubitably. Whenever I'm home you're welcome. The Academy has vacations. I don't know the most perfect spots to show you here, but around my own manor I know every tree. We'll go on a few days' tour. Maybe a week."

"I can think of nothing I'd like better." I grimaced slightly. "May I come in the autumn?"

"It would be perfect if you did. I'll send a pigeon the moment the trees begin to turn." He popped a grape into his mouth. "Shall I arrange our tour by inn, or do you mind sleeping outdoors?"

"I haven't since the end of the war, but I'd prefer it, I think." Father and I had gone on a long ride or two when I was young, among of the few times I'd really spoken to him without a desk between us.

Without thinking, I cracked my egg by whacking it against my forehead. Gunter burst out laughing and I felt myself redden to the ears. "It's… a game Conrart and Wolfram and I used to play." I hadn't done it in polite company since I was Wolfram's _age_, either. Perhaps I was too relaxed.

"It was charming. Every time I think I understand you, Gwendal." He continued to giggle at me. I threw a grape at him, and he caught it in his mouth. We both laughed at that, and I felt something loosen that I hadn't even known was tight.

"You're not all that simple yourself." As I watched, a little bird hopped across the blanket to peck at the crumbs of his sandwich. Though it was practically touching him, the animal didn't seem perturbed by his presence. Clever bird.

"I contest that. There are times I wish I had your composure. There are disadvantages to wearing your heart on your sleeve." He grew a bit more serious. "I _am_ easily taken advantage of."

I didn't know what to say to that. There were figures I knew, like my uncle, who had hurt him, but I was sure I didn't have the full story. Little plants grew nearby, topped with a spray of brilliantly red flowers. I remembered the name from Mother's gardens. Amaranth. I plucked one bloom of many and boldly slipped it behind his ear.

_Mother,_ I would write later that night. _When next you have time to develop a strain of flowers, I would ask that you focus your efforts on the flower that never dies. If the flower flourishes and you consent to name it _Gunter's Heart_, I will consider it a wedding gift._

His fingers reached up and he looked a little shocked. "Gwendal!"

I was shocked myself. "Taking into account everything that's happened to you, regardless of what your heart may have gotten you into, you're doing remarkably well."

It was either exactly the right thing to say or terribly wrong. He threw himself against me, clutching tight. I hugged back. We both needed this for a moment, I no doubt for terribly different reasons, but I relished it nonetheless. He'd held me once while I cried and I hadn't been able to enjoy it at all. Holding him—he wasn't crying, but clearly upset—I let myself love him, love the warmth and weight of him in my arms, even as I comforted him. I rubbed his back and stroked his hair. All the while I drowned in the smell of him, that silken hair against my fingers.

Gunter seemed to not need anything from me but my presence. I was sure anyone would have done, or anyone he trusted enough, and that was sufficient praise for me. As I held him in silence, as I adored him, I thought of what _our_ wedding would have been like. Though he might have wished to hold it at his house, I'd never seen it and couldn't picture it, so I saw him riding that trusty gray mare to my door, Mother and Anissina escorting him. I saw him present the red crystal, Gyre… and what would his third gift be? Something beautiful. The dark colors of my wedding robe would have robbed him of color, turned him ghostly, but even that would have been charming. I couldn't imagine how I'd look in lavender and silver. Somewhat untoward, probably. I'd have missed the speeches, the dances, the songs, because I'd have been lost in him, and when that horrible gong rang I'd only have blushed in delight.

My grip must have tightened as I thought of it. Gunter sat up, red faced. "Thank you, Gwendal. I'm… I'm being ridiculous…"

"No you aren't." Well, he was, but sometimes the world was ridiculous and one had to return in kind. Like taking off at a gallop through countryside you didn't know on a new horse.

He shook his head. "Oh, you missed dessert. I'll get it." He stood slowly. "Am I grass-stained?"

I informed myself in no uncertain terms I wouldn't use the question as an excuse to look Gunter over. Then I proceeded to do just that. His robes were his usual ones today, loose and flowing, and the hint of his outline was oddly tantalizing. "You're fine."

"Good." He unpacked a smaller bag and set a small basket and a covered bowl, sealed shut with wax. With a twist, Gunter removed the top and I uncovered the basket.

"Strawberries and clotted cream?" It was a little thing, but I was still dumbfounded. "Who did you ask?"

"Your mother. It didn't take a great deal of detective work. You like it only lightly sweetened, right?"

"You're far, far too good to me."

"I'm just glad it didn't turn to butter during that ride." He smirked at me, moment of weakness apparently past. "I've been told you need to eat more."

"I'll eat constantly if you bring me more desserts like this." I dipped a small, tart strawberry and licked every spot of juice and cream off my lips after I swallowed. Gunter didn't eat as many strawberries as I did, but it was clear he liked the treat as well as I. I thought maybe I'd earned the right to be a few berries' worth of greedy. By the time we'd devoured our last little snack his pale lips were stained red. He had lemonade left to wash it away with, though mine was all finished. I was disappointed. The little spot of color had suited him.

And certainly I could be forgiven for wanting to kiss the taste of strawberries off his lips.

Gunter stretched out on the blanket. "And now all I feel is lazy. We really _should_ get back…"

"I'll clean up. You go ahead and be lazy for a bit." He'd packed lunch, after all, and very carefully. I tossed our leftovers to the squirrels and replaced the saddlebags. I watched him as I worked. He was lucky the sun wasn't too bright today. I was sure he'd burn. He smiled as though he hadn't a care in the world, as though he hadn't collapsed from some horrible weight not long before. His hair, even his brows and eyelashes, glittered in the hazy light.

I went to lie beside him. "Let's both take half an hour off, shall we?"

"Splendid idea," he said, without opening his eyes. The horses grazed, Gunter dozed, and I watched him. Certainly it was a little untoward, but I was too light a sleeper to drift off under the sun in strange country.

The last of the desperation that had pushed my ride this afternoon surfaced. Sure he was asleep, I leaned as close as I dared. "I love you, Gunter." It was the barest whisper against his ear, and he didn't stir. I hoped it might reach him by way of dreams. "I always have." I pushed myself up and stole a brief kiss, tasting lemon and strawberries.

What kind of friend was I, abusing his trust like that? I was being downright creepy. Last time I'd kissed him I'd been feverish and half convinced he was going to die. Something of an excuse. But however unseemly my behavior, I couldn't regret it. Satisfied, really happy, even, I lay back down beside him and fell asleep.

When I woke up, the sun was setting and my head was in Gunter's lap. While both situations were theoretically problematic, I was too delighted to remember why. The clouds had thinned and the sky was radiantly red and orange. The moon and morning star were already shining, silver in the darkening blue to the east, the crescent and brilliant point below suggesting a question no one could answer.

Gunter's long robe was flipped aside and only the thin layer of his pants underneath separated my cheek from the smooth skin of his thigh. Under the scents of summer breeze and flowers I could smell just him, a scent that made me shiver. If the world could stop now…

It took every ounce of willpower to sit up. "Gunter?"

"You look better." He patted my head twice and I stretched. Lovely as waking had been, my neck hadn't been at an accustomed angle. "I think you needed that rest."

"No doubt." A few black hairs still rested on his clothes. I was shedding again. "How… did I end up there, exactly?"

"You about half woke up when I did." He shrugged. "You clearly weren't quite ready to face the world yet. I'm not sure you actually opened your eyes."

The fact that I'd slept on Gunter's lap was beginning to sink in properly. It felt as bold as a kiss, only slightly less forbidden. "I'm sorry, that can't have been comfortable." I was glad to hear my voice even and unperturbed. I didn't feel myself blushing either.

"I didn't mind. I was glad to be able to help, even in my small way. But we'd better hurry back. We've probably missed most of dinner already." Gunter seemed evasive. His eyes didn't quite meet mine. I supposed it would be awkward to have a friend sleep on your lap for what must have been at least two hours.

"I've not exactly made a phenomenal impression on my new family as it is." I stood and stretched. I did feel better. Suspiciously. "…Gunter, were you healing me while I slept?"

He smiled nervously, but also seemed somehow relieved. "Just a generally invigorating infusion of energy. You've been so put-upon." Gunter rolled off his blanket and folded it away. "You needed someone to stick with you."

"…I did." At least someone had noticed.

"They don't mean anything by leaving you here, Gwendal." He leaned close with his hand on my shoulder. "Your mother would say something if she knew what… It's easier to pretend nothing's wrong."

"I know." I covered his hand with mine. "It's been a wonderful afternoon. Let's get going." On impulse, I extended a hand to help him onto his horse. He certainly didn't need it, but I felt the gentleman, and he accepted the hand up with a smile. We rode back at a much more leisurely pace, one that allowed for conversation.

"Was there a specific breaking point that enraged my uncle, or was he just fed up with having a clever opponent?"

"Oh…" He bit his lip and looked away. "Trying to save you, mostly."

"What?" I was sincerely confused. _Save_ me?

"I know you made your choice and I was undermining your sacrifice, but I couldn't stand their willingness to sell you for their own convenience. I wound up making your mother cry, your stepfather laugh, and your uncle turn me out of court. I'm afraid I'm not the negotiator I thought I was." He shook his head. We came to a narrow ditch and he had to turn back to make a bit of a run and jump it. He and the horse looked splendid in mid leap. The image burned into my memory.

But wasn't quite enough to clear the air. "Gunter, that marriage may have saved lives." Losing Gunter in the fight against my greedy family might cost a few. "It certainly saved political relations for the next few years."

"I know. And it protected your brother until such time as his father gets another good offer. I know Wolfram is the heart of your heart, Gwendal, but…" He looked away. "I couldn't stand by and do nothing. I only wanted to help!" He sent me a look that melted my heart, but his mistake stood. It was likely Stoffel would have moved against him sooner or later, but this was such a stupid thing to lose his position over.

"My choice was made, Gunter."

"I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

At the sight of liquid, frightened eyes like those, how could I not? But I couldn't forget. Gunter was more prone to emotional judgments than I'd realized. "You're forgiven. But please exercise some restraint in the future."

"Noted." He looked thoroughly chastised. We didn't speak much on the way back, riding side by side. Tension remained in the air at first. I was still angry with him, if only because he'd hurt himself with his foolish crusade and could have damaged plenty of others. It seemed very strange that I'd once thought of Gunter as so eminently wise. He needed looking after, really. I had a sudden vision of spending decades and centuries cleaning up his messes.

And when I realized I didn't really mind, I let go of my annoyance and smiled at him. He smiled back and let the brothers carry us home. We didn't need to speak. The sound would just have been a distraction.

Before we reached the gate, Gunter excused himself to ride around back and return what he'd borrowed from the kitchen. I suspected he didn't want to be seen returning with me. Spending the better part of the day with a beautiful older man out in the countryside right after my wedding was, even to my mind, a little suspicious.

I dismissed the thought and Gyre and I walked through the gate. Gunter was right. I'd needed that.


End file.
